Where The Sky Will Be Kept
by Nebulad
Summary: "Well... that wasn't supposed to happen," Dorian announced from the cell beside Lavellan's. "No shit you stupid fucking twinkle fingered fuck-face!" Sera wailed from across the room. "You two did something with your fucking magic now we're in Skyhold but it isn't Skyhold it's all messed up and there's elves everywhere and they aren't speaking fucking sense!"
1. Chapter 1

"Well, this... wasn't supposed to happen." One minute they'd been in the training field, laughing loudly and sparring like the past few years had never happened and they'd all just coincidentally gathered at their mountain fortress to become friends. Saevin sent harmless little orbs of electricity to chase Sera around, while the woman shot arrows back hysterically- sometimes at the orbs, sometimes at Saevin. Dorian and Bull had been laughing, with Dorian trying to box Saevin in with fire to give Sera a better shot and Bull occasionally shouting directions at one of them- whether or not they were true was up to the person being yelled at.

Dorian had suggested idly, as Saevin jumped up onto the wall beside him to try and gain ground on the rogue chasing her, that maybe if they channelled their magic together, they could use her Mark of the Rift power in conjunction with a blast of fire. _Your magic is very reactionary- the orbs are learning the way that Sera shoots at them, but Maker don't tell her that she'll kill you in your sleep. But if I cast a fire spell within it, then we stand a chance of causing some respectable mayhem._  
><em><strong>Mayhem<strong>__,_ Bull had agreed from beside him, obviously not having been listening. He probably would have insisted that they shelf the idea if he had been paying attention- but he hadn't, so Saevin hopped down from the wall and gave Sera a little peace, flexing her left hand in preparation.

_Count of three, _amicus_,_ _then you'll cast the rift mark and I'll corrupt the source with fire_, Dorian had instructed, rolling his shoulders.

_Try not to burn me to ashes _lethallin, she'd returned, casting out her marked hand. She'd thrown the greenish glow of magic not rightly her own onto the ground, and a bold emerald orb burst into the air. On cue, Dorian had shifted his staff to face it directly and blasted fire into the very core of it. It swelled violently, and pulsed the colour of seasickness. There was a large snapping noise, as if something large and tight had been severed.

_**Shit**_- Dorian had managed to spit before everything exploded into a violent vomit-coloured mess and Saevin had impacted with the ground so hard that she lost her breath. Distantly she'd heard shouting- Bull, maybe? She couldn't see straight and the world spun in dark, blurry shadows that were moving too quickly for her to comprehend.

"_Who the fuck are these people?_" shouted an angry voice almost right over top of her. Her stomach roiled, half from the horrible headache she had right behind her eyes and throbbing against the back of her skull, and half because she recognized the voice.

"Solas?" she asked, her voice coming out in a wheezing gasp. She reached upwards at the figure leaning over her- perhaps she'd been wrong. There was the vaguest indication of very long hair, though her vision hadn't completely cleared. It was dark, though, like the dark mud and soil around the aravels after it rained...

. . . . . . . . . .

Saevin's senses returned more fully once they were locked up in the holding cells, only barely catching herself as the guards that had gathered them up tossed her in by her arms. "Well... that wasn't supposed to happen," Dorian announced from the cell beside hers.

_"No shit you stupid fucking twinkle fingered fuck-face!" _Sera wailed from across the room. "Where the _hell_ are we? If I live through this I'm gunna turn you two into fucking pudding just see if I fucking don't, _what did you do?"_

"Calm down, Sera," Saevin murmured, her head still aching.

"_Calm down?_ You two did something with your fucking magic now we're in Skyhold but it isn't Skyhold it's all messed up and there's _**elves**_ everywhere and they aren't speaking fucking sense!" she shouted.

"Shut up, Sera. If they hear you yelling they'll just come back. I'm not sure that they speak our language at all, to be honest," Bull said, rumbling from the cell beside Sera's. If Saevin squinted, she could make out the two of them- Bull was hunched by the cell door, his hulking form seeming a bit squished in the small hold. Sera was pacing restlessly, her fingers twitching for want of a bow.

"How did the elves manage to haul _you_ down here, Bull?" Dorian asked irritably.

"It was six elves, they weren't gentle, and they used... I don't fucking know, some spell or something. Magic shit. I couldn't move," he snapped back. There was silence for a moment, then Dorian cleared his throat.

"I shouldn't have-,"

"Leave it." The silence was heavier this time, so Saevin shook out her head. It was a bad idea and did more harm than good, but it helped her to remember there were more urgent things happening than an unaccepted apology between lovers.

"I need some answers. I didn't see any elves, and they were all speaking plainly to me." In truth she hadn't properly seen anyone, and she said so to her team. Everything had been a mess of colours and shadows and things were only getting marginally better as time went on.

"Sounds like you got a concussion, boss," Bull said sympathetically. "I don't think any of us are field medics or healers either." Solas had been but he was a phantom among their group of friends. His loss was felt more keenly than anyone expected it to be- Dorian missed sending paper airplanes of magical theory down into the rotunda for him to scoff at and send back up with corrections and condescending commentary in the margins. Bull missed the mental exercise that chess with Solas had provided, and missed riling him up about the Qun. Even Sera sometimes found herself looking over to say something smug or rude to the uptight bastard only to remember with a hard lump in her gut that he'd pissed off.

Saevin just didn't like to think about him.

"I don't think concussions makes gibberish sound like plain Common," she protested, trying to smooth over the apparition of Solas as gracefully as possible.

"It wasn't gibberish, it was Elvish," Dorian said, his mood evidently still foul.

"Same fuckin' difference," Sera hissed, rattling the bars of her cage.

"Not to put too fine a point on it but concussions are serious shit. Maybe we deal with the boss' skull being cracked open before we start fighting about words?" Bull asked gruffly. "We can ask the elves for a medic- they come down to check on us in shifts, and if Saevin understands them then she can ask for help."

"Why would they bother to help us at all? They looked pretty pissed off from where I was standing," Dorian protested.

"You're absolutely right _kadan_, instead we'll let Sae's brain trickle out onto the floor to avoid bothering the elves," Bull groused.

"Please, would you both just stop? This isn't helping the splitting headache..." she growled, pressing her palm to her forehead as if she was trying to shove her brain back into her skull where it pressed riotously.

"You fuckin' deserve a headache, _why isn't anyone else asking what the fuck is going on?"_ Sera shouted. Saevin was about to open her mouth to demand that they shut up and let her think, but there was a squealing of hinges as the door to the top of the stairs opened up. Immediately all of them fell silent and retreated to the backs of their cells.

Solas was standing there- or someone who could have been his twin. He was much darker than their Fade expert had been, with bronze skin as if he'd never been out of the sun in his life, and thick, dark dreadlocks that hung heavy against his shoulders. There were crystals and precious metals interwoven between the thick dreads, seeming to signify rank based on the uniform way that they were arranged. Under the rush of dark locks on top of his head, his hair was shorn short, though it looked like it would require a cut soon. On his forehead rested a circlet that peaked at a small rodent skull that rested gently on his brow.

He... might have been Solas, but more likely than not someone who was just _very _closely related. He stood ramrod straight as Solas always had, but she suspected it was less out of habit and propriety and more because standing up straight made it easier to look down on everyone else. The man before her was tall and broad as Solas had been, but wore robes that looked like dragon hide and were blacker than the city in the Fade. There was an intricate pattern around the hem rendered in gold but the outfit itself seemed more practical than intended for fashion. He seemed... more aloof than Solas had ever been, which was impressive.

"Where are we?" Saevin demanded, moving back to the bars. He stared at her curiously, his brows knitting as he studied her. His eyes were blue as sapphires and framed with thick dark eyelashes. He dissected her as Solas used to, but in a much colder manner. She could imagine that she was the carrion corpse being torn apart for the sake of learning what was inside.

"You have a concussion," he said shortly, reaching out his hand. She hesitated a moment, a heartbeat passing in silence as she pulled away from his hand. He _wasn't _Solas... he couldn't have been. Whatever she had done to make Solas leave, he would never simply shut her down like this man did. _What they had was real. _He couldn't act like _this _after telling her that.

The moment passed and logical returned- he was right. She was injured and needed healing, so she irritably allowed his fingers to weave through her hair to the tender part of her skull. She cringed as he hit the wound, but remained still. There was a wash of warm healing magic and the world settled back comfortably into a steady shape. "There. Now tell me who you are," he commanded, taking his hand back.

Definitely... not Solas. Her heart dropped despite herself and she tried to gloss over the disappointment that surely crossed her face. She had hoped... maybe he was playing a game. She couldn't imagine why he would do such a thing, but perhaps it was to punish her for whatever she had done to make him leave.

"Tell me who you are and what you are doing here." He repeated, his voice pitched low enough to snarl as he spoke. Her chest tightened and she forced herself to focus. The man _not _being Solas meant that it no longer mattered who he was. He was dangerous and he wanted answers from them and they were at his mercy.

"Peace. This is... a big misunderstanding, _haren, _and I would explain what happened," she said in a shaky voice. She felt her chin lift as Dashana had always told her to do when meeting someone new- the Dalish didn't bow.

"Sooner rather than later," he snapped. He was dissatisfied- obviously a person of significant power, if he was so used to being immediately obeyed without protest or preamble.

"Saevin what's he saying?" Bull asked sharply from his cell.

"You don't know?"

"He's speaking Elvish." She frowned.

"Are you certain? Am I speaking Elvish too?" she asked.

"Only when you talk to him. You're speaking plain common right now," Dorian quipped.

"Oh for fuck's sake she drank from that sketchy fucking well didn't she? She's probably got that creepy elf god inside of her whispering, shit shit _shit shit fuck,_" Sera's panic was working itself back into a frenzy and Saevin risked getting closer to Not-Solas to try and calm her down. His expression was roiling darkness as the prisoners continued to argue without his leave.

"Saevin ask the nice Solas-looking fellow what year it is," Dorian said softly.

"Why?"

"We were experimenting with Rift magic just before this happened and are in a Skyhold that is clearly not under your control. Humour me."

She turned to Not-Solas, who was glaring at her. "My name is Saevin," she started, just to appease him. His expression didn't falter and she wasn't particularly surprised. She was more shocked that he hadn't yet shouted or separated them to try and wring answers from their broken bodies. "I'd... I'd like to know what year it is, please."

He scowled. "You mean to tell me that you do not know the year?" he demanded. She shrugged helplessly, unwilling to nod or pretend as if she knew and was testing him for some reason. "5500 FA," he snapped irritably. Saevin felt the floor shift riotously and her stomach jump into her throat.

That certainly wasn't by a Chantry calender, but she was a first and had studied elven time-keeping. FA was "founding of Arlathan", the crystal city that Solas had described to her with such a longing in his voice that she'd wanted to weep. He'd always sounded homesick, but she supposed that once one inhabited the Fade enough that certain areas became mapped and familiar, a home could be anywhere.

"What did he say?" Dorian asked as her horrified silence dragged on.

"Uhm... he said that it was around nine hundred years before the founding of the Tevinter Imperium and almost two thousand before the death of Andraste," she said faintly, reciting the date markers like a good little First. Sera groaned loudly and Bull began to curse violently in Qunlat. Dorian seemed to be unable to do anything but shout: _Again__? We ripped time a new asshole __**again**__ what are the chances? What the fuck are the chances?_ He dissolved quickly into Tevene and Saevin tried to regain feeling into her fingers.

"Explain yourself," Not-Solas demanded, his voice somehow sounding even less friendly than it had been moments before. At her silence he reached in to grab her, but she evaded his grasping palm and ended up falling backwards onto her ass.

"Saevin you mustn't tell him _anything_, do you hear me? We could change the future but changing the past is _off limits,"_ Dorian said frantically.

"We could prevent Arlathan from falling," she murmured, her heart clutching at the very thought. Solas had never brought her near any Fade-reenactments of the crown jewel of the _Elvhenan, _bitterly insisting that it would serve no purpose to dwell on what was and will never be again. She hadn't pressed him on it, but at that moment she wished that she had. She tried to picture the glass castles and enchanted fountains.

"_Or_ we could accidentally wipe out every elf in existence, or every human, or wipe out the Tevinter Imperium!" he snapped.

"That'd wipe Coryphe-piss from time all 'round, wouldn't it? All those people that died, they'd be fine." Sera demanded in a shaky voice.

"Yes, Sera, but there are citizens of Tevinter outside of evil Ancient Magisters. For instance, _**me**_," he snarled. She scoffed, then turned to the wall beside her, mumbling something rude under her breath.

"What 'bout Tiny, here?" she asked, tapping the wall. "These elf pricks don't even know what a Qunari is yet, do they?" Bull smashed his horns against the bars, still speaking Qunlat too thickly for Sae to even separate words. It sounded like a prayer. Dorian spiralled back into a rage again and Sera resumed her frantic pacing.

"_Enough_." Not-Solas took out a ring of keys and unlocked the cell that Saevin sat in. He lifted her by her arm and she went where he directed bonelessly. "The rest of you will stay here- _you_ are coming with me to answer questions."

"Don't hurt them," she said, her voice shaking. They had gone back in time. Arlathan was still standing and maybe the gods would even still be roaming Thedas. She heard the irritated voices of her friends insisting that they weren't real gods, and felt the throb on her face where her _vallaslin _used to be. _It doesn't matter to them but it matters to me._

"They will be unharmed unless they pose a threat. I am _not_ Elgar'nan," he said sternly. Her heart sped up because that had confirmed it. They were living, walking, breathing people- god or spirit or mage or fraud. Solas had scorned the legends built around them, his nose scrunching up at the assignment of the word 'god' to any of them, but it didn't matter. The pantheon was alive. _Maybe I could prevent the Dread Wolf from locking them away, _she thought dizzily as the man guiding her yanked her up the stairs and around the corner. She recognized the main hall of Skyhold only through virtue of room dimensions- it was worlds different than the Tevinter design that Saevin had implemented to set Dorian at ease, with low tables made of light wood and coloured glass in the windows that was so pristine she wouldn't have seen it if not for the rainbows they casting into the air.

"Who are you?" she asked her guard. He had to have been in charge in some way or another- perhaps not the holder of the fort but someone of note. He wasn't Solas by any stretch of the imagination- though every time she looked at him she found herself compelled to think of more reasons why it _couldn't _be true despite the mirror-like resemblance. His temper was more physical than Solas' had ever been (forgetting, of course, the mages who had bound his spirit friend, but surely that was only one exception). Solas had been much milder and more restrained. This man had to be some distant ancestor.

"You have not heard the stories of the Dread Wolf?" he asked her bitterly. She stopped moving, which prompted a cold laugh. "So you have, then? A shame. I had hoped to make a better impression-," he began to lead her along again and her legs were weak as terror curled in her stomach, "-after all, they did me the courtesy of sending a pretty spy this time. I had not thought they took my jest in truth; perhaps my next request will be for them to politely line up for my ritual instead of making me work."

"You can't be Fen'Harel. That... it doesn't make any sense," she whispered in a high, shocked voice. Was Solas descended from the Dread Wolf? He had to be. The man who guided her along even scrunched his nose the same way when he was irritated, with the same curve of his lips when he scowled. His brows furrowed over... the same scar, over his eyes. _That's... odd_.

"Another child, then, signing up to serve 'gods' she's never met and not even bothering to check and make sure they are not lying to her?" he spat. He finally threw her down in a small room with a hearth- Josie's room, in another life, though much less cozy than it had been- would be. "Tell me then, which one of them sent you? Trust me when I say they will send no rescue party for you or your friends." He didn't lay a hand on her but the low snarling of his voice made her want to curl up onto herself. _Could he be telling the truth?_

"I wasn't sent by anyone. I'm a mage, and my human friend you've locked up is a mage as well. We were experimenting with a spell very far away from here and it... it went badly. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but we just... something snapped and everything turned green," she said slowly. "I can't give you the details- I think my skull cracked after impact right after the spell went south, so after that the details get jumbled. If you'd bring one of my friends up- maybe not the other elf, but one of the men, I could translate what they know for you." _Please, I'm not lying. I don't know if you're the Dread Wolf or not but please._

He was silent for an unnervingly long time, then with his hands clasped behind his back, he began to walk forward in a slow, deliberate way. He circled her and she tried to keep her eyes on him, while he continued to watch her like she would jump up and bolt. She wanted to. "Your large friend, with horns..." he began. _Shit_. She couldn't tell him that Bull was a Qunari, as the ancient elven society wouldn't live to see that invasion. She didn't want to accidentally erase Bull from time.

"As a child he... was experimented on. With dark magic, uhm-," Solas had told her that there was no such thing as inherently evil magic, "-used with dark intentions. They were trying to form a super-soldier, and it changed him. He is himself, only... very big." The liar in Iron Bull might have been impressed with her story, if she had improved the delivery. He stopped in front of her and looked down his nose at her. _If we put this man in the Orlesian Court he'd be Emperor before the night was out. _She gnawed her lip nervously, straining to maintain eye contact.

"And grey," Fen'Harel said, moving to lean against the empty hearth. He still stared at her and she felt like she was fourteen and Keeper Dashana had caught her touching herself or something. She was mortified. She'd just thrown up an entire bull shit story and the guard- _Fen'Harel, _but that could _not _be true- didn't buy it for a second.

"And grey," she agreed meekly, hoping he would let her get away with her lie like the Keeper always had.

"With horns." _Shit._

"Yes. He'd tell you he's part dragon but I doubt it." It had been a poor attempt at a joke and the man's face didn't crack. She ducked her head, ashamed at how easily she caved to interrogation.

"The elf girl has no magic. Mana is not in her veins, and more than that I am told when my guards attempted to magically restrain her she began to panic," he said slowly, dropping the subject of Bull entirely.

"If you are curious I could ask her, but she refused to tell us why she was empty of magic when we all met. I'm not sure if she'll be forthcoming." Best not to weave the web of lies too thickly, especially since she was so poor at hiding her feelings. Her guard- Fen'Harel- turned from her to glare out a window, and Saevin habitually reached down to run her thumb along the hilt of her ethereal sword, which certainly must have been removed when she was half conscious.

Except it hadn't been.

"So I am to believe that you are simply fools who toyed with spells beyond your expertise, and accidentally opened some sort of portal that happened to drop you off into the secret lair of Fen'Harel?" he demanded. She nodded, casually moving her hand to rest in her lap while her heart fluttered in her chest. "What've your hand?"

"My hand?" Her fingers suddenly felt paralyzed and she lifted the palm she had moved, but he shook his head.

"The left pulses with magic that is not yours," he said darkly. She flushed.

"I... can't explain that one either. It was an accident and I'm still not sure what exactly happened to make it like this," she admitted. The mark had come from an orb dedicated to one of the elven gods, though, and she worried that perhaps she would take the magic's owner for her sponsor. He obviously believed her to be a spy, after all.

"The magic is rightfully mine, so I would have a much clearer answer than the one you've given," he told her. She frowned.

"It was yours?" she asked softly, trying to piece the implications together in her head. This man, identical to Solas, was Fen'Harel, maybe; the orb that had torn a hole in the sky belonged to Fen'Harel, _maybe_; had the Dread Wolf given the orb to Corypheus, or had it been taken? And where did Solas fit into everything? He had been seeking the orb and left her when it was shattered...

"Mine, yes. How did you come into a slice of my power?" he asked, and the air suddenly seemed to snap and quiver like a live thing. She felt the Fade against her skin like she did in places where the Veil was thin- only she remembered that the Veil here was something else altogether.

"An accident," she murmured. "I... I can't remember the details. Nightmare demon stole them away from me. I can't tell you anything." She couldn't. There was no plausible way she could say _I caught your orb when an old lady slapped it out of the hands of a Blighted Tevinter Magister-_ he didn't know what the Blight or Tevinter even were.

"That is not the answer that I was looking for," he said, approaching her slowly. She pressed herself back against the rickety wooden chair that she'd been deposited on. A chill ran through the air like a frosted shadow and the candles that idly lit the dark corners of the room flickered. "I have been kind thus far, have I not? And you have answered my questions with either admirable honesty or moronic lies. Tell me now, child, and you had best answer as clearly as you can-," he leaned in close to her, so close that she might have kissed him in another world, if he had been who she wished. As it was, she felt her throat go dry and her stomach clench. "Which of the pantheon sent you?" he asked quietly.

She pulled the hilt of her sword free with an arm that felt numb and pressed the shimmering energy against his throat. He frowned in confusion, and as his face cleared his expression twisted into fury. "None of them, Fen'Harel. I have no interest in your life at all- my friends and I were transported here by accident, and I would give my human friend time and comfort so that he can figure out what we did wrong and reverse it so we may leave. Keep us locked in a tower if that is your wish, or throw us out into the snow. All I need is hospitality or my freedom." Her hands didn't shake thanks to rigorous training from Commander Helaine, but it was lucky that she was sitting because her legs quaked like halla foals. She was certain her voice had cracked during her brave little speech, but it didn't seem to lessen his anger.

"You think to threaten me?" he asked so coldly she felt ice on her skin, his eyes flashing down to her wrist as if he meant to break it. It was strange that he didn't put her in her place immediately- surely one ethereal sword couldn't stand against a _god?_ She shook her head at his question and willed the sword away, keeping her fingers clamped down on the hilt. No matter what his reaction, she didn't mean to have her weapon slapped out of her hand.

"No, I thought to remind you that I am not a trembling child to be bullied into admissions of guilt to satisfy you," she said, her 'Keeper face' returning in full throttle. She channelled Dashana at her pettiest and most sour. "I'm not even quite sure what's going on here at all, and it's beginning to wear on me, all this questioning." _It's beginning to frighten me. I don't know how any of this ties together and every time I learn something new, there's a million other questions, and you are not him so you will not answer me._

He straightened himself, staring down at her curiously. He didn't make a move for her sword, or seem particularly concerned that she was a mage either. She stayed silent as he observed her, her voice paralyzed in her throat, and when he reached out to tilt her head up to meet his eyes she didn't resist him. His fingers were rough and burned, tracing along her jaw as if she were a horse he was looking to buy. He finally let her go. "Saevin, you said?" he asked. She nodded. "What of your companions, what are their names?"

"The human is Dorian, the elf is Sera, and the... big one is Bull. The Iron Bull," she corrected herself. He raised an eyebrow. "Look when a man that large tells you to call him something, you do it." He smiled faintly, which surprised her finally, then offered her his arm.

"You shall have your hospitality then- well guarded hospitality, but nonetheless. I will assign a personal guard or... three... to each of your companions and they may move about the fort as they wish, so long as they defer to the preference of the guards," he said. She took his offered arm, tying her hilt back to her belt. _Worst comes I can just cast something minor long enough to get it untied_. And of course, she did expect the worst to come. She wasn't a fool, and the turnabout that Fen'Harel's mood had taken was suspicious at best.

"How many guards will I have? Or am I going back in the cell for putting a sword to your neck?" It wouldn't have shocked her. The one time she chose to be aggressive _would_ land her a beheading.

"You've somehow managed to steal a portion of my power- power that I require for my ritual. Until I can be assured that your strange mark bears no negative effects for the conduction of said ritual, and until I am wholly satisfied that you are not a spy, you shall have to stay close to me for observation," he said, casting her a smug grin. Her jaw tightened. "I am, unfortunately, a very busy man and as such you will not have free reign as your companions do, but I'm sure that in time you will learn to bear the burden of my company." There was a smile on his lips and a glint in his eye that almost seemed to confirm the suspect nature of the deal he offered. _He is a Trickster and he's up to _something... _but until I know what..._

"As you wish," she said politely, bowing her head before she remembered not to.

And with that, Saevin was bound to a man who claimed to be the Dread Wolf.

.

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Hang onto your socks kids I'm gunna try on a multi-chapter fic to see how I like it. Lemme know what you think bc idk what I think lmao. On a semi-related note it has taken 100% of my self-control to put as few back to the future references in here as possible do NOT hand me time travel i will become marty mcfly in an instant.


	2. Chapter 2

"Awfully kind for an ancient trickster god who destroyed his people out of sheer malice," Dorian said, resting in the same nook that he would tuck himself into when time straightened itself out again. There were fewer books and many more birds kept much more freely than Leliana would have ever allowed, and the rotunda below them was oddly bare. Fen'Harel busied himself with writing letters and sending them out on ravens, so Saevin settled herself against the wall. The guard was relatively light- only the Dread Wolf and three others attended to all four of them.

"I'm... suspicious," Saevin admitted. "But I can't imagine what his motivations might be." He gained nothing from humouring them, nothing from posting guards to them, nothing from insisting that every waking moment of her time be spent within five metres of him.

"Eating my ass," quipped the guard that had been personally assigned to Dorian. Her name was Cha'cer and apparently her job was _mayhem. _Scouts and spies infested the mountains around Skyhold- _Tarasyl'an Te'las- _and it was Cha'cer's duty to stealth through to the very heart of their camps and set everything within fifty miles either way on fire. She operated much like a Tempest, though Sera had told her that it was _slightly _different. _She's all pumped up full of magic shit. She don't use flasks or anything for what she does she just... does it. It ain't right, s'like she's a rogue and mage both and it ain't right._

"Such a charming creature," Dorian said flatly. Within the first five minutes of Saevin sitting down, Dorian had made his utter abhorrence of his personal guard clear. _Sometimes she'll disappear for five minutes and elves will angrily demand where I've left my guard. She won't reappear until they're about to kabob me, and then she appears directly behind me and starts howling. The elves double over like it's a joke! _Saevin would never admit to finding that even a little bit funny.

"Saevin is a storm mage, Cha'cer. Perhaps she can help you cast some lightning to rival the static electricity you've been using," Fen'Harel said pleasantly from his desk.

"What did he say?" As much as he claimed to dislike her, Dorian deferred automatically to Cha'cer's translations. She spoke common- well, the closest approximation to common there was, which still left her out of much of the conversation, like many of the elves that milled around the fort. Saevin also suspected that the common she spoke with the other elves was half-derived from a slave language. All of the ones who could communicate with Sae's team in their language possessed _vallaslin, _including Cha'cer herself. The scout bore the marks of Ghilan'nain, but Fen'Harel had quietly warned her not to mention it under any circumstances.

"He said he would like to lick the sweat off of a _durgen'len's _hairy sack," she replied with a smile. Saevin looked to the Dread Wolf, whose expression didn't change. _He really doesn't speak a word of common. _The thought excited her- the _shem_ language wasn't common yet. It wasn't even common enough for Fen'Harel to even _want _to speak it. "Besides, I'm no mage anyway. _Ar dara anhrefn'mi," _Cha'cer added with a smug grin.

"More like _da'mi_, little blade." Fen'Harel's face curled into a familiar grin.

"What's _da'mi?"_ Dorian asked.

"Loosely translated, it means that he's wondering if he could take a giant's cock without splitting in half," Cha'cer said with a flat smile.

"What's _anhrefn'mi?" _Saevin asked, biting her lip to try and quell her smile. Fen'Harel freed another raven into the open air with a letter on it's leg. The Dread Wolf was much less exciting than legend made him out to be, which only brought his identity into further suspicion. A god certainly wouldn't spend his time writing letters, but that was the only thing she had seen him do yet besides eat. He took a strange pleasure in eating, refusing to multitask entirely and instead having Cha'cer over to sit on his desk and chat with him while he devoured what was in front of him. It was as if he were unused to full meals, which left Cha'cer holding most of the conversation herself- mostly to complain that he set his general to _guard duty._

"'Chaos Blade'. I specialize in dual wielding and elemental destruction," she said, her grin big and proud. Fen'Harel drew attention to himself by letting out a snort of amusement and smiling in a vaguely fond manner. He approached them fluidly, his movements hearkening to those of Orlesian players of the Game. No action he made, no step he took, was ever unplanned- a habit from being watched so closely. He reached out with both hands and ruffled Cha'cer's dragonhide black hair, while she grunted in distress, until it fell out of the loose ponytail she wore it in. She swatted at him with a hiss and began gathering it back up again. The style she wore was much like the Dread Wolf's- though her hair grew longer on top, the backs and sides were shaved close to her skull. Saevin wondered who had done it first.

_"Da'mi," _he teased.

_"Len'alas lath'din," _she returned, disappearing into air as soon as her hair was back into place. The Fade rippled as she made her move, which was still a strange sensation that made Saevin vaguely nervous. The nature of the Veil was different than it was in their time- rather than a solid curtain separating the Fade from the waking world, it was more of... well, a veil. To say that the Fade and the world were the same thing was a vast oversimplification- rather, the borders were permeable and easily manipulated, and the relationship between the physical and the intangible was symbiotic in nature. They didn't seem to fear demonic possession, or tearing of the dangerously thin Veil.

Dorian groaned audibly and pressed his back against the wall. "I am _not _falling for this one again!" he shouted at the nothingness. A disembodied laugh wove around them, until the Dread Wolf reached out and caught the rogue by the scruff of her neck, forcing her to reappear with a _pop_. The impressive gesture was made incredibly less suave when she burst into flames and he yelped in alarm like a wounded pup.

Saevin pressed both hands over her lips, still perhaps too wary to laugh in the face of the man who had scowled at her so impressively mere hours before, Dread Wolf or no.

. . . . . .

As night fell, Fen'Harel herded her into the main hall of _Tarasyl'an Te'las _and bid her sit near him at one of the low tables that were slowly filling with elves. "Does everyone usually come together to eat?" Saevin asked curiously. She rarely saw the soldiers in her army outside of the training fields and the barracks, which Cullen had assured her was completely normal. _Soldiers have an entire social system all their own, Inquisitor. It doesn't matter if they're Templars or city guards or mercenaries, there's an unspoken ecosystem between warriors that you needn't trouble yourself with._

"Not everyone. Most soldiers stay in their barracks, healers will take dinner in the tower that they study in... but it is important that I remain visible and accessible to all of them. They fight here for a cause that I rallied them for, and it is my Divinity that they sought to protect when Andruil ran us out of our last shelter," he explained. "Also, you may eat. I expect Cha'cer will be along with your _shemlen _very soon, so you may as well get as much as you can before her team shows up." Saevin smiled politely, willing to admit to herself that Dread Wolf or no, the man was a lot more charming when he wasn't interrogating her. _Don't relax until you discover what his motives are, _she scolded herself.

"What's Cha'cer's story?" she asked, reaching over for some strawberries filled with vividly white cream cheese. A kitchen girl had enthusiastically told the Dread Wolf that the filling was made from the milk of a cow named 'Felas' as she'd set the platter before them, continuing to chatter excitedly about how sweet the bovine was and how the sow named 'Pepper' had given birth her to litter. He'd listened with rapt attention that was... admirable. Unexpected. Too kind to be _dread_.

"You could always ask _her_, if you wanted the gory details- as it stands, it is hardly my story to tell," he said with a wry smile. He took some of the thick slices of beef seasoned with simple garden herbs, and Saevin followed suit. She hadn't eaten anything since dinner the day before they'd been sent sprawling through time, which created a strange situation where she hadn't eaten since two thousand years into the future.

She opened her mouth to respond when the door to the rotunda was kicked open and Dorian stomped in. A few of the elves tittered as he all but _bolted _to the empty seat beside Saevin, scowling darkly. "Greetings _shemlen. _Dare I ask where your guard is?" The dry smile on Fen'Harel's face indicated that he was only asking to upset Dorian, and despite that, when Saevin translated his words to common, the Tevinter rose to the bait anyway.

_"I don't know. _If you could ask him if he could tell me that would be _fantastic_ so I could blink my fucking eyes without having to worry if the damn lunatic will still be there when I open them!" he snapped, beginning to fill a plate with food as fast as he could. It was as if he was waiting for Cha'cer to show up and slap the plate out of his hand.

Which she did with an alarmingly loud shriek.

Saevin jumped and felt Fen'Harel carelessly put a hand on her back to keep her steady- he certainly hadn't jumped, and she suspected that he'd probably seen Cha'cer approach somehow- and Dorian let out an unflattering yelp just as Iron Bull walked in with his three guards (all part of Cha'cer's squad she was told, used to fighting dragons and mildly relieved that Bull was at least smaller than a Tevinter lizard). He laughed loudly and Dorian turned _violently _red, his Tevene so thick and fast that his voice seemed to change altogether. Cha'cer was almost doubled over with laughter while few of the more polite elves hid their smiles behind napkins.

"Dorian, are you all right?" Saevin asked, biting her lower lip hard to keep from smiling. She could see that Cha'cer was beginning to wear on the mage, who had made little to no progress in figuring out what had gone wrong with their spell.

"We have to go back to the _future_," he hissed, spearing more food onto his plate as Bull settled beside him (a move which forced Cha'cer to the other side of Fen'Harel, Saevin noticed).

"Do not trouble yourself, _shem. _Cha'cer knows when to let a joke die, and no doubt she'll have invented a much less alarming way to torment you by the end of dinner," the Dread Wolf assured him. Saevin translated and Dorian barked out a laugh.

"Can't wait," he said, piling his plate with food again. Cha'cer did the same, ignoring the decorative forks on the platters used to scoop the food in favour of her hands.

"Must you?" Fen'Harel asked with a disapproving turn of his lip.

_"Must you?" _Cha'cer returned in a growly imitation of him. He tugged at her ponytail sharply as she stuffed a roasted potato in her mouth, and she responded by reaching over and sticking her finger into one of the strawberries on his plate to scoop out the cream cheese. "Boring day, following this prick around?" she asked, turning her attention to Saevin with her mouth still full of food. Fen'Harel sighed wearily but didn't mention it.

"It was... interesting." It hadn't been. Mostly letter sending and reading for the times that they were alone, but the sheer fact that she was standing on Thedas at the same time as Arlathan stood was mind-numbing. _Boredom _wasn't an option and she'd more or less spent the day trying to figure out an innocent way to prod about the past without making it seem like she was from the future.

"Hear that Mutt? Someone thinks you're interesting!" Cha'cer said, taking more cream cheese from another strawberry on his plate. He rolled his eyes but ate the hollow fruit she left behind- the juice stained his tongue red, only just visible when he spoke.

It felt uncomfortably like infidelity when she became distracted by it. _Does it count if I think his ancestor is good-looking? _She realized belatedly that Fen'Harel had asked her something and tried to refocus herself. "I'm sorry?" His eyes were lovely too, just like Solas' had been only much less... ancient.

"I was wondering if you had a preference for sleeping arrangements. Your party is half male-," Sera staggered in as he spoke, looking pale and tired, "-and I admit to being unsure about your preference."

"I would prefer that we were kept together," she said firmly. Cha'cer snorted.

"She didn't even see you askin' if she liked cock," she said, sitting up on her knees to reach over and grab some of the pork by Dorian. The mage narrowed his eyes but tried to ignore her, keeping his focus on Iron Bull's stupid pub story. The merc looked tired as well, and she had to remember to ask him where he had been after they had parted ways at the library. Skyhold's tavern didn't exist in _Tarasyl'an Te'las._

_"Cha'cer,"_ Fen'Harel snapped. Saevin again struggled to ground herself in the conversation- she'd barely been listening and she worried it began to show.

"Move it Wolf-Boy," Sera hissed, finally making her way up to their table and trying to shove between Saevin and Fen'Harel. The Inquisitor shifted closer to Dorian so Sera could fit while the Dread Wolf pursed his lips. "This place has the exact same layout as Skyhold on the West bits," she reported towards Bull. The merc nodded thoughtfully.

"Same thing in the East wings, but a lot less damaged than it is when we get there. I also made friendly with some of the soldiers and they said that the place was built by Andruil, but she moved her full force out of it to attack the temple where Fen'Harel was hiding. The guy circled his people around Andruil's army and took her fort full of slaves while she went bat-shit on an abandoned building," he said quickly, casting a wary look at Cha'cer. She wasn't paying them any mind, instead using the fork that the Dread Wolf had impatiently handed her to launch peas at her men.

"Bunch of the help said they were workin' for whatshernuts when Fen'Harel swung through an' freed 'em. They all got those goofy tattoos that Sae used to have before Solas did the magic thing," Sera said, casting a strange look towards Fen'Harel. "Are we still sure Baldy and this prick are two different assholes?" she asked. Saevin nodded firmly.

"I've been thinking about it at length and Solas _can't _be Fen'Harel. He would have taken the _vallaslin _from his followers if he knew a spell for it, but look- Cha'cer still has hers," she said quietly.

"Maybe he don't _know _the spell yet," Sera suggested. That was valid.

"All right, forget that- he isn't anything like Solas!" she insisted.

"Quiet, boring, constantly scolding the fun elf for raising hell?" Dorian said, curling his nose at the green beans drizzled in some sort of dark gravy.

"I thought you didn't like Cha'cer?" Bull asked.

"Not the point _amatus. _The point is that there was something... fishy about Solas and we all knew it. He was secretive, he knew a _lot_ about things no mortal in Thedas had any business knowing about and tried to tell us he learned it _all_ in the Fade? And not to poke at old wounds or anything_ amicus, _but he was oddly singular about the preservation of that orb. We happened to destroy a _lot _of ancient elven artifacts along our adventures but Fen'Harel's orb was his breaking point?"

"Do you realize how ridiculous this all sounds? Ignoring how weak it is to confirm that he's Solas because they're both 'boring', you're trying to imply that Solas was an ancient elven _god_ and never said a word about it?" She shook her head and took the green beans away from Dorian, scooping them onto her plate. "Not to mention that the orb was Fen'Harel's the entire time, which would mean it belonged to Solas and he never said a word? He would have known _everything_ about what was going on and just been keeping it from us." She kept shaking her head, trying to distract from the violent trembling in her fingers as the implications burned in her head. "Solas wasn't the Dread Wolf and I'm not even convinced that this man is either."

"My ears are burning," Fen'Harel said over Sera's head. Saevin, already flushed from working herself up, waved her hand.

"_Ir abelas, haren. _I'll be quieter when we talk about you next time," she said. Cha'cer snorted and Sera groaned.

"I'm so sick of no one speaking proper pissin' words. Nothin' in this shitty place is right," she said, covering her head with her arms. "The rogues are mages and the warriors are mages and the fucking cow is probably a fuckin' mage too."

"The horror. Being surrounded by filthy mages," Dorian said dryly.

"Shut the _hell _up, it's your fault we're here anyway. You and the fucking Inquisitor pissing with your fucking magic," she snapped.

"Eat, Sera. You'll feel better," Saevin said, pressing a hand between Sera's shoulder blades to try and ground her. It was usually a gamble whether or not Sera wanted to be touched when she was feeling foul, but apparently it had been the right thing to do this time. The rogue huffed out a breath and started filling her plate up- like Cha'cer, she used her hands.

. . . . . . . .

After dinner had ended, Fen'Harel offered Saevin his arm again while instructing the guards to take her companions to a guest room with a few beds set up for them. Three guards would be posted outside, and the room was just across from Cha'cer's own. The Dread Wolf then bid goodnight to his general, kissing her absently on the head _("What, no tongue? Some dreadlord you are")_ before leading Saevin away from her companions and out to the battlements.

The scene wasn't different from how it would be in two thousand years. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the still chill of the night, and lanterns flickered to provide dim illumination for their walk. The damp blue-grey stones were cast in orange as they wandered along quietly. She didn't know why he had bothered to drag her up there, but they stopped at the peak of the highest tower that overlooked the garden (still full and orange, though much more rigorously kept).

"Do you know why they call me _Dread Wolf?"_ he asked idly, once the guards below had passed. She felt her stomach turn uncomfortably.

"I supposed because it's relatively effective propaganda?" she suggested. _That was a future joke. We're all terrified of you- or him, rather- if we even believe in the first place._ He smiled wryly.

"You aren't wrong, I suppose, but the pantheon is certainly not creative enough to conjure such a title out of thin air," he said.

"What about June?" she asked idly. He turned and spat on the ground, his eyes dark.

"June is a monster with an anvil, not a pen. Relying on him to create propaganda would be about as effective as relying on a _durgen'len _to write it," he said coldly.

"Dwarves are great writers," Saevin protested, thinking of Varric. "Well, not all of them I'm sure, but I've met a dwarven author before, and he's a bestseller." He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and let out a breathy little laugh that was so similar to Solas that it made her breath quicken.

"You travel in strange company. Do you still mean to tell me that the man with the horns is an elf?" he asked. She frowned.

"Why would I tell you anything else? It's the truth," she said carefully. He shook his head idly but didn't press.

"Of course it is. I digress, though, would you like to see why they named me the _Dread Wolf?" _He looked like he wanted to show her, so she shrugged and nodded_._ He backed up, careful to put a very specific amount of room between them. He inhaled deeply, his eyes slipping shut and his arms spreading, pressing at the shimmering Veil until it quivered around them.

There was a flood of powerful magic that washed over him like an enormous wave, wrapping around him like a cloak and soaking into his skin like rain. The magic that swelled and pulled the air around them was a soft ocean blue that reminded her of the roiling Waking Sea, with Fade-green ripples that parted the sky and washed against the stone ground they stood on. Saevin staggered back to press herself against the edge of the battlement as his eyes opened, glowing in an unsettling spirit-blue colour with thin sapphire smoke emanating from them.

She was shaking when he reached out to her, the magic reaching out from his fìngers to brush curiously against her just as his fingertips did. She was reminded abruptly of the mischief spirits that Solas had shown her in the Fade, magic curling up her arm faster than fire spread. The green magic buzzed around her, creating hard static against her skin that reminded her of The Fallow Mire, where the air had been cracked with the beginnings of a Rift that had required her mark to open before she could heal it. She wondered if she could break open these tiny fractures that cut at her flesh, but they retreated when his hand did. He looked at her strangely through this new mode that thinned the already gauzy veil so badly that he was like a portal to the Fade himself. It was a good comparison, as the mark on her hand twitched and glowed when he was near. He smiled, close-mouthed as Solas ever had.

"This is not what I mean to show you, but you seem impressed. This is the Divinity I stole," he explained, his voice a low rumble through the Veil. She clutched the hilt of her sword, her eyes glued to him. He was lovely- _Creators, _but lovely didn't even begin to describe him like the ache in her gut or the itching of her hands to reach out and touch him could- but she didn't recognize the magic that swelled around them and brushed against her, as if she were a curious addition in a world in which she did not belong. _That's exactly what I am._

"What did you mean to show me then?" she demanded, bringing out the blade of her sword to shimmer against the night sky and unsettlingly soothing teal glow that he emitted. He reached out and took her hand, the left one with the mark. She almost dropped the weapon clutched in her right because his skin was soft as halla fur and there was such _power_ rippling just underneath the surface that it made her head feel light. He didn't seem to notice her sword, or if he did, he didn't care. He ran the pad of his thumb across the Anchor carefully, frowning as he studied it but seeming delighted when it glowed brightly in reaction to his touch. _Your magic is very reactionary, _she remembered Dorian saying. _This magic isn't even mine- maybe it simply reacts to its owner._

"Forgive me. I am too easily distracted when I make use of thismagic. _This_ is what I meant to show you." As if it were as natural as air, he fell forward onto his hands and bowed his back_ violently_. She gasped in shock and clutched her sword protectively in front of her as his form swelled and grew darker, the blackness of his robe eating his figure alive like a great snake. There was an unholy snarl that ripped through the stillness of the night air, and the gargantuan muzzle of the new beast before her snapped up and six blood red eyes blinked at her.

She bolted.

She leapt off of the tower and down to the lower battlements by the garden as she'd done- or rather, would do- a thousand times at Skyhold. She hit the ground the a violent thud, rolling so the shock wouldn't snap her ankles. Panting in terror she tried to form a plan- she didn't know which door lead to her team, but she was usually pretty good at guessing which one lead into the main hall. She made her careful way down into the garden as fast as she could manage, deciding that before she did anything she had to be somewhere central, so she wasn't entirely lost.

Once in the garden she dodged the vegetables that grew and tried to remember which door led into the main hall. Panic was clouding her senses and she heard a heavy grunt that could not have belonged to a man. Terror bid her throw a door open- the wrong one, though, the one that would someday house a shrine to Andraste.

Instead, Fen-Harel stood there.

He was no longer a wolf, but still Divine as he reached out for her. She slammed the door shut with a scream that rattled her ribs and took off, deciding to climb the stairs back up the battlements. She ran back to the tower, but lept across onto the stairs that would lead around the tower instead of back through. Still gasping to force air into her lungs, she pushed herself towards the opposite lookout that would one day be ruined and non-functional.

He appeared in front of the door. _"Atisha, _Saevin, stop-"

She jumped down to the platform spot where she would meet Luca Hawke with Varric, and from there directly down into the weathered lean-to that would be a ruined pile of wood and stone, just near where Cassandra trained. She ran across the empty courtyard, her brain freezing as she asked herself if she would dive towards the lower level where the bridge was extended for escape, or if she would risk re-entry into _Tarasyl'an Te'las. _

She had to go back inside. She wouldn't leave her friends behind.

The air stilled around her and her body stopped moving. Even the long strips of her skirt wavered slowly, like the atmosphere had suddenly become mud. Fen'Harel once again stood before her, his brow drawn in concern. "You reacted much more strongly than I expected you to. I apologize, I forget that the sight of the wolf is hardly a soothing one."

"You're him," she whispered frantically, her mouth able to move faster than the rest of her. "You're the Dread Wolf." Her heart pounded against her ribs and she struggled to right her breathing. _Running scared _was probably not what was meant by a Keeper's duty against Fen'Harel.

"I told you as much when we met," he reminded her. _I didn't believe him and now he's going to burn out my insides and eat my friends. _"Swear to me you will not run and I will right time around you," he said sternly. She nodded, gasping out a frightened promise. There was no point to running- he would only stop her again.

She fell to her knees once she was able to move again, crying out in pain as she connected with the pebbled dirt. Her chest heaved with un-spoken screams and the angry demands for air, and her limbs shook as the adrenaline from her flight melted out of her body. He offered her his hand but she refused it, lifting herself off the ground and trying to salvage what dignity remained to her, knees trickling blood and eyes still darting madly while she stubbornly tried to stand solidly despite her trembling. "Perhaps I will escort you to your room for the night?" His offer was tentative, and he held out his hand.

"As you wish," she said in a much smaller voice than she'd intended, turning to walk towards the main hall again. She would not accept his courtesy, she decided, and would instead try to impart the necessity of fixing their spell to Dorian. He hadn't grown up on tales of Fen'Harel, but maybe if she tried hard enough she could convince him that whatever the legends said, it was vital to their well-being to be as far away from the man as possible.

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Ten reviews on one chapter r yall tryin to kill me? 3 gosh hope ya keep liking it, i'll try to keep up the quality. ALSO Cha'cer is a real Lavellan that belongs to the very real IngredientX ! If you go to her FF page you'll find a beautiful fountain full of beautiful Cha'cer making out with Solas and it's gr8 !


	3. Chapter 3

Saevin woke up squished between Dorian and Sera (the rogue whose head was on Sae's arm and obviously had held the position for a while, judging by the pins and needles that prickled along her skin- Dorian, mercifully, seemed content to throw his legs over Bull's stomach and only rested his head on Saevin's gut). The beds (or more accurately, _bed)_ that had been set up were not what any of them had been expecting, and only Saevin seemed relieved. There was a long, low futon stuffed with thick pillows and heavy blankets to ward off the perpetual winter chill that permeated the fort. It wasn't unlike the beds the Dalish used, which only seemed to irk Sera.

Sae had found the room hours later than everyone else, after her panicked flight and after going to see the fortress' healers when Fen'Harel expressed concern that she may have been slipping into shock as her limbs grew stiff and her colour went greyer and greyer. She had been fine, in the end, only suffering from a nasty scare and absurd physical strain. The _actual Dread Wolf _had smiled anxiously and said _I imagine jumping off the battlements may count as 'physical strain'. _She hadn't smiled in return and instead stood on her wooden legs and began to make her way back out of the tower.

She huffed out a breath into the chill morning air, freezing cold as the awkward positions they kept had pulled the blankets down to her waist. Sera rolled over with a snort and clung to Sae's side, head still leaden on her arm, while Bull snored in high, wheezing gasps. She felt better that morning, and aside from her aching arm, the stiffness had drained from her joints.

_"Aneth'ara, _if you want food I'd haul ass!" Cha'cer threw open the door and her voice jolted Dorian awake so sharply he kicked Bull in his stomach. The Qunari jerked into wakefulness with a grunt and Sera groaned into Saevin's shoulder.

"If I open my eyes and I ain't in the bar I'm gunn' fuckin' kill you," she garbled.

"Can you get your head off my arm to give me a sporting chance?" Sae returned sleepily.

"Sonofabitch," she hissed, sitting up slowly. Dorian rubbed his eyes and grunted when Iron Bull shoved his legs back. "Right, so, how long is it gunna take to make time go right again?" Sera's hair stuck up funnily and her bangs were greasy and parted into chunks.

"I... don't know," Dorian admitted. "First I have to find out why the combination of _fire_ and _rift magic _displaced us in time. Free reign in the library helps, but I don't have nearly enough resources to be able to pinpoint the mistake within any sort of reasonable time frame."

"So we're just fucking stuck here 'til then?" she asked angrily.

"'Fraid so," Bull grumbled, cracking his back. "Stuck here with an old elven legend." He looked at Saevin. He had been the only one still awake when she had staggered in, although they had shaken Dorian and Sera out of their rest to tell the story right after she entered.

"Don't even start with that shite!" Sera hissed angrily.

"If you're done arguing with each other, I know where the baths are?" Cha'cer offered, sharply reminding the group of her presence. "Food'll keep until you look less like we had you sleep in the sty."

. . . . .

Saevin sat down next to Bull at the comically short table that he dwarfed. He was being oddly quiet, but she suspected that time travel fell firmly into the category of 'magical bullshit' that unnerved him. Fen'Harel had yet to put in an appearance, which was wildly relieving. Cha'cer took his spot beside her, while Sera sat squarely between Bull and Dorian to try and avoid facing the reality of this time period.

"The Mutt's sorry he scared you," Cha'cer said, gnawing on a strip of smoked vension. Saevin looked at her warily, rolling the small pile of fruit around on her plate with her appetite dwindling. "Woke me up right after he dropped you off, felt like hell. So did I, but mostly because the idiot jerked me awake to wibble then fell asleep on me. I _told _him it was a bad idea to burst into a wolf but he insisted that it wasn't as scary as I made it out to be. You sure showed him, yeah?" she said with a crooked smile.

"Where is he?" she asked, looking around as if he would appear on the table before her.

"Still asleep in my room, lazy dick." As she spoke she piled a second plate full of food, which Sae could only assume was for him.

"Are you two...?" She'd never heard of any version of Fen'Harel's story with a companion of any sort, yet there he was with a fort full of followers and a beautiful general.

"Me and the Mutt? Nah, not... h'm. It's not really like... I love him like mad but we aren't fucking or anything like that," she said with a thoughtful frown.

_"Sa'elgar, _'one spirit'." Fen'Harel's voice shocked Saevin, and she knocked over an empty cup. It clattered against a plate as she struggled to right it, and the Dread Wolf sighed as he took a seat. He kept Cha'cer as a barrier between them, leaning over to brush his lips against his general's hair. "Cha'cer and I are 'one spirit' or 'twin souls', as Falon'din and Dirthamen are," he explained.

"Only we're better looking and at least half as nuts," she said, nudging him. His mouth curled a bit.

"Some of us more than others. How do you feel this morning, Saevin?" he asked, accepting the plate of food that Cha'cer slid over to him.

"Fine, _haren_,_" _she said tightly, looking over to check on her team. Sera drooped against Bull while Dorian and him argued animatedly about what possible consequences them being present in the past would have on the future.

"I am sorry for what happ-"

"I know. Cha'cer told me," she said, cutting him off.

"He wanted to get you flowers but I told him it was dumb," the general quipped. Saevin smiled thinly, a hoarse laugh bursting from her before she could stop it.

"I like flowers," she protested. Fen'Harel's ears perked up and his face brightened so quickly that she had to stifle another laugh.

"I can still get you flowers," he said eagerly.

_"Fenedhis, _would you play it cool?" Cha'cer scolded. "You're embarrassing both of us." Saevin grinned, inching a little closer to Bull. She should have been more wary, she knew, but he was much less intimidating when he wasn't Divine or a wolf. It was difficult to associate the man with the beast, and perhaps a little easier to maintain her calm so long as he _wasn't _a wolf. Either way, it was much more difficult to maintain a healthy amount of fear when she hadn't slept for most of the night.

"Apologies, Saevin. Did you have any plans for today?" he asked, turning himself to face her. His robe was beige that morning, with a simple green tunic underneath. It was so vividly like Solas that she had trouble meeting his eye, which he noticed but didn't mention. No doubt he was still treading carefully after his misstep the night before.

"Whatever you were planning, I assume," she said mildly, stuffing a chunk of roll in her mouth to avoid speaking. He jaw tightened, she noticed, but his smile didn't drop- a fatal error nonetheless, if they had been before Celene. _Lucky I killed her then, isn't it?_

"I find that my schedule is relatively clear today, so I thought I might offer myself as open for suggestions," he told her, his voice never dropping the polite tone he'd adopted. She shrugged her shoulders and looked to Bull, who was staring suspiciously at a dried out stick of beef.

"What is it?" she asked, remembering abruptly the story of the baker who had tried to poison him. He shook his head and bit into it.

"Little food, little people, little tables…" he gestured around. "Feelin' a bit like a giant, boss. Need something?" She nodded her head.

"What were your plans for the day?" she asked. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Snoopin', probably. Find out who and what we're dealin' with, who this guy is dealin' with so we don't get caught with our dicks out," he said. "Soldiers are the same in every point in time, boss. Buy 'em a drink and bitch about whoever's in charge and they'll tell you want you have to know."

"Glad you're here Bull. What about you, Sera?" The rogue had woken up just long enough to fill her face with as much food as she could hold in her mouth and both hands.

"Makin' new friends, I think. I mean, why should this time work any different from ours, yeah? There's always assholes- maybe a cook that's a dick to the scullery maids, maybe a seneschal thinkin' he can sneak a few coins and blame the help. Assholes are a universal constant," she said, a bit of potato falling out of her mouth as she spoke.

"Just… try not to piss off…" Sae gestured her head meaningfully back at Fen'Harel, who was attempting to force Cha'cer to use a fork by magically dancing it around her plate to stab at her hands whenever she reached for food.

"Wha'ever."

Dorian seemed to anticipate that it was his turn, so he waved her off before she could open her mouth. "Rudimentary though it may be, I'm going to tear the library to pieces to find out what went wrong," he said firmly.

"Why don't we just ask Wolf-Boy? If Sae's mark is from his stupid orb-y thing, shouldn't he know what pissed up?" Sera asked, reaching for a mug of something honey-coloured.

"Because _then_, Sera, he starts asking awkward questions about where Saevin got a mark grounded in _his _magic! She's already put him off the scent once and we'd rather not put him back on it, yes?" Dorian said, seemingly unaware of the Dread Wolf pun he'd made. His plate was full of fruit, and Sae wondered how long it would take him to relent and finally eat some rudimentary southern protein.

"I dunno, _kadan. _I sort of think that if she asked him _real _nice, he'd goo up and tell her everything we needed to know," Bull said with a crooked grin. Saevin frowned.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I _mean _that he just seems pretty keen to keep the pretty girl happy," he said innocently. Dorian snorted.

"Maybe he's predicting that in two thousand years she's going to fall madly in love with him," he said dryly. Sera made a fake gagging noise.

"Did he miss the part where he dumps her?" she asked. Saevin's grip on her mug tightened, and she scolded herself for it. _It's been months. It's time to move on._

"He isn't Solas," she said shortly.

"Looks like 'im," Sera insisted.

"Sounds like him," Dorian added.

"_Acts _like him, and that's the important part. Their body language is almost identical, except that this guy is a bit looser than Solas was. He _is _two thousand years younger, though, so…" Iron Bull shrugged, ripping off a hunk of beef jerky with his teeth. "Sounding and looking like him could all be hereditary, but carrying themselves in the exact same way? That's hard to pass on to someone you're too old to meet."

"You three are _literally _trying to tell me that you think Solas was two thousand years old?" she demanded sharply.

"Elves were immortal, weren't they? That Abelas fellow we met was an ancient elf, so it isn't out of the question," Dorian argued.

"_Why _wouldn't Solas tell us anything about the orb if he knew it all?" she demanded.

"He did though, right? He told you, before we got to Skyhold. He took you away from camp to tell you how elfy the orb was and how elfy you were. _He _showed us where Skyhold was," Sera said, looking increasingly agitated. "I swear if that stupid git really was some idiot fucking elf god…"

"_He wasn't."_ Saevin stood up, shaking her head. "He wasn't anything but who he was and he didn't leave me because I broke his stupid fucking orb, he left me… I don't know why he left me but it wasn't because he's a god!" She turned and started towards her quarters, before remembering that they weren't hers yet. Stalling awkwardly, she turned and made a beeline for the door that led to the garden.

. . . . . . . . . .

She was alone for a grand total of five minutes, shaking with anger, when Fen'Harel joined her. "A walk in the garden, then?" he asked, smiling. _He smiles like Solas, but more readily than Solas. I had to coax every smile out of _ma vhenan_, and he acted as if he wasn't entirely sure he was doing it correctly. Fen'Harel is desperate to smile about something. _She didn't respond, and he sat beside her. "I… I will admit, I did not understand what you shouted before you left. You mentioned _solas…_ the Elvish word?" he asked. She shook her head.

"That was his name. We had a friend named Solas, but he left us a while ago. It doesn't matter," she said shortly. He nodded thoughtfully but very wisely neglected to push her on the subject. _"Ir abelas, haren, _I won't waste your time." She stood up and stared at him expectantly. He had said that his schedule was free, but she suspected that the gesture was offered to apologize for _bursting into a wolf _as Cha'cer had put it.

"Sit," he urged her, and for a moment she was back in the glen at Crestwood with her _vallaslin _burning against her face like a brand while Solas gestured at a smooth rock by the water's edge. She shook herself out of the memory and flopped back down next to him on the wrought-iron bench (a gift from the dwarves, perhaps?). He took her hand and she frowned, but he pressed his palm over-top of hers. She felt his Divinity lift the Veil as if it covered an Andrastian bride's face, but only for a moment, and when he pulled his hand away there was a small pink flower blooming in her hand. She huffed.

Not to be outdone, and herbal magic one of her more useless specialties, she focused a wash of revitalizing magic down her arm so the little bud would spread its petals outwards like it was stretching in the dim sunlight of the early morning. Dashana had always scolded her for using her magic to quicken the plants, as she said it ruined them as surely as the _shem _quickening had ruined _Elvhenan. This flower isn't quite real though, is it? _He grinned and his Divinity surged, creating blooms all over her lap and in the crooks of her arms. She inhaled softly and let her magic burst all across her, covering herself in big blooming blossoms in various shades of blushing pink and baby blue, with swirls of violet and sunshine yellow. He laughed, low and quiet.

"You _do _like flowers, don't you?" he asked.

"Did you think I was lying?" she asked, stretching her arms. The buds stuck to her skin like wet leaves but didn't lose their bouncing petals. "It ruins them, though, making them grow faster. All the medicinal properties quicken and die in the plant."

"It hardly matters in the plants that are only there to look at. These flowers are yours- if you want them to bloom or wilt, it is your decision," he said, pulling her arm over to brush his hand against her skin. Little twirls of ivy connected the blossoms together and made them pulse with a soft white glow as they joined together. She felt his residual Divinity that stuck to her and shook her head.

"They're yours. You made them," she said.

"A gift."

"Why?" The flowers were beginning to feel more and more like wet seaweed.

"Breakfast seemed to upset you," he said hesitantly.

"Not really your problem, is it?" she snapped, then bit her tongue. _He is __**not **__Solas, so stop shouting at him like he's done something wrong. _"I'm sorry. Breakfast did upset me." His kindness had a double edge that she saw when he looked at her. His mouth tightened into a smug tilt and his eyes narrowed before smoothing out again. _He wants me to slip up and reveal something- he's already had me talking about Solas. _

She was angry, for a moment- she felt the flowers wilt on her before she could reign it in. She hated The Game, in all its forms, and she'd had enough Orlesian nobles trying to suck up to her to last a lifetime. They always wanted dirt on her, and rumours were worth more when they came from her mouth- apparently she couldn't escape it even before Orlais was even founded. "I would go speak with my companion, _haren," _she said stiffly.

His jaw clenched, a tell if she'd ever seen one. "If it please you," he said pleasantly.

. . . . .

Cha'cer was sitting in the large window sill in her private quarters, absently sharpening her blades. She didn't need to, not really- she hadn't used them since she last checked them. She'd been all ready to go out and stick a fireball up the asses of some of Dirthamen's spies who lurked in the lowlands south of the Keep (as if their god of secrets somehow made them invisible), when Fen'Harel had rushed in and asked her to keep an eye on the _shem _mage.

Guards, she found, had precious little need for daggers or fireballs.

She was about to wrap up and go to bed- she had to actually wake up for breakfast _every day _now, since the funny mage needed to eat- when the Dread Wolf himself burst into her room with an ugly scowl on his mouth. He spat out some curses that would have made _Elgar'nan _cover his ears and stomped over to where she sat, slamming the door behind him. She rushed to toss her daggers onto the bed and opened her arms for her little bundle of joy. "Rough day, _vhenan'ara?"_ she asked as he settled himself between her legs and reclined against her chest. He was much bigger than her, but adept at slouching- he liked little spoon better.

"She caught me baiting her. I was being perfectly pleasant and we were playing with some silly herbalism magic, and I went too far and she caught me. It is… it seems as though she knows my face and watches for me to slip up, as if she is studying me. Which one of them trained her to do this?" he demanded, looking up at Cha'cer as if he expected an answer.

"Dirthamen, teaching her to read secrets? Andruil, teaching her to read the hunt? Fuck if I know, but the important bit is that now _you know. _While the scrawny little mage thinks she has the one-up on you, you have an opportunity to turn it around," she urged him, running her fingers against his skull. He sighed, leaning into her touch as she began to unwind the metallic badges and precious gems that were woven into his hair. He hadn't taken them off when he'd fallen asleep the night before, so she imagined the relief was physical.

"Demanded that I take her to sit with the _shem _mage. They still speak of the future as if they know what will be," he said darkly. "I still cannot tell if they speak in earnest or are just supremely stupid. Would whoever sent them not inform them that I spoke the common language of the _durgen'len?"_ he asked. Cha'cer shrugged.

"Shot in the dark, really. Once your head is as far up your ass as the pantheon keeps theirs, it gets hard to tell what they will and won't brief their spies on," she said, taking the thick leather tie out of his locks to allow them to rest. "Are we still noting what they say?" she asked tentatively. She'd been on the fence about her _elgar'lin's _insistence that they listen to the casual references that the spies made to the future, in case it became important later. It seemed like a waste of effort and a _lot _like dancing to the tune of whichever god had sent them.

"Yes. They make mention of the orb quite frequently- it has something to do with that mark on her hand," he said, his nose scrunching up.

"Fen, that orb hasn't been out of your sight since its creation. How would she steal magic from it?" Cha'cer asked impatiently. He gestured broadly.

"I do not know, do I? That is what I mean to discover, but when I took her to her friend all they spoke of was trying to reverse the spell that brought them here." He was getting riled up, so Cha'cer slipped off the robe he wore over his tunic and pressed her thumbs in circles on his hairline just below his ears. They went wide and relaxed, and he sighed.

"You want me to sabotage the research?" she asked. She liked the mage- Dorian- but he was hardly her twin soul (though she would admit to being a little relieved when the Dread Wolf shook his head and told her to leave their work be).

Ever since she'd met Fen there had been a damn near _physical _connection between them. She'd been _in the service _of Ghilan'nain (what a crock of shit, like she'd _signed up _for it) when she had first seen him, handsome and rugged with a smile on his mouth. She saw through it immediately- a slave's talent, really, being able to sense bullshit in its purest form. He'd been watching _everything _with eyes like a hawk, and when they fell on her…

She knew immediately that he was one day going to do something fucking stupid.

She didn't have to wait long. He slipped away that night to find her in the slave's hut- well, behind it, trying to teach herself how to stab things with a poorly sharpened stick. It had all been in good fun, no more than a mummer's show, she'd assured him. Some children were watching and she didn't want to have him beat her in front of them for daring to bear arms. He hadn't, though, instead taking her hand like he'd been waiting all day to touch her.

He didn't touch any more than her hand, though. He was smarter than she'd given him credit for, and knew the wary ways of a slave. She knew damn well what handsome, upper class men touched a slave for, and he hadn't wanted to start them off wrong. He'd been taking a huge risk by grabbing the hand without a stick in it, and had luckily started talking _before _she'd moved to ram it in his eyes. "My name is Fen'Harel and I wish to speak with you. Nothing more."

It had only been that feeling that had made her stay her stick, the feeling like something physical between them bound them together. Like their wrists were tied together, but with him she would be unbound, always. He stayed with her, spoke with her, and learned of her until dawn crested the damp field and she was drooping against his shoulder. _To bed, _elgar'lin, he'd whispered to her. _I've kept you too long. _He hadn't let go of her hand since he'd picked it up.

It became a system between them. Fen'Harel routinely visited each of the pantheon- their golden boy, handsome as a bandit and clever as a bard. _Funny _too, as he spoke of the Fade in fantastic and outlandish ways, as if his magic were evolved from all else. It grated on him- she could see it in the hard set of his jaw and the terseness of his shoulders.

When he visited Ghilan'nain, he would spend the night with Cha'cer. He would tell her of himself, of the Fade, of the world outside the temple she served. She would whisper to him secrets of the pantheon- how Andruil would sneak in through the back and fuck Ghilan'nain until she screamed, how June would come to receive the same treatment Andruil gave, and how many slaves had been lost since his last visit.

One night he kissed her as she scornfully spoke of how Andruil had tipped a tray out of her hands and thrown her to the ground and demanded that she clean it. It had taken all of Cha'cer's self-control to not clench her fists and scream (Fen'Harel spoke dangerously sweet things in her ear- freedom and revolution and the right to backhand snotty gods when they fucking deserved it) and as she had raged about the snide look on Andruil's face, Fen'Harel had leaned in and pressed his mouth against hers. _No tongue, though, _which had quickly been rectified as she pulled him in by the collar and shown him how people kiss when they weren't tiptoeing around nobility like he did.

They took a risk by fucking in Ghilan'nain's backyard, but they'd both preferred it that way. He had bitten her shoulder to keep from crying out, but she hadn't bothered to try and quiet herself. No one cared when a slave howled, and it was worth it to see the look on his face as he tried to swallow back pleasure grunts that made his throat convulse while she _demanded _that he fuck her harder. She'd sat astride him afterwards, panting with a crooked grin on her face. _Not bad, _she'd murmured, kissing him lazily. He'd returned her glibness with a look like _fire _and a kiss just as hot.

_She will not keep you forever, Cha'cer. It is no better in the other temples than it is here. This game of theirs is going to end and when it does they will regret the day it began._ She didn't like when he spoke in riddles and told him so, whispering to him much better things to occupy his tongue. His face had softened as he watched her and he finally smiled. _As you wish, _vhenan'ara_, _he'd teased.

The day he stole Divinity, he had rushed right down to the hut where he knew he would find her. He'd tricked it out of Ghilan'nain, with her fondness for creatively sick and dangerous creatures and her double fondness for flattery. Cha'cer had given him what he needed- Ghilan'nain's weakness for compliments, weakness for power, weakness for _him _that he'd carefully cultivated- and he'd used it in full force until she'd slipped.

He was frantic and Divine and didn't know how to shut it off and couldn't _focus _but they had to _leave immediately. _Cha'cer was furious- the idiot was going to get himself _killed, _you don't just _steal Divinity! _Impatient and pulsing with power, he had simply lifted her up and _bolted_, obviously disoriented by his new trick.

They hadn't stopped running until they reached Mythal's Temple- Mythal who glowered at the Divine Fen'Harel and the _furious _slave he had slung over his shoulder, but let them in because it was just. Slavery was unjust and the hoarding of power was unjust and these were truths she could not deny, so she would protect them. He had planned it all in advance, and with a pure heart begged Mythal for sanctuary.

It was Mythal who scolded him for being a foolish child and helped him to turn off his Divinity to clear his head. It was flawed, what he had stolen, but something that was wholly his. _Welcome to the pantheon, _da'len. _I hope that you do not live to regret this day. _The sentiment had seemed half a threat to Cha'cer, but no one had asked her what she thought as she stood shivering in the courtyard.

_So what, do I trade the Ghilan'nain tattoo for one for Mythal, or one for you? _she'd demanded as soon as Fen'Harel had taken her to their quarters. He was obviously exhausted and looked at her hazily.

_I do not understand, _he'd said quietly.

_You're the big _fucking _hero aren't you, and I'm the damsel slave girl. Is this the bit where I devote myself to your service because I'm so _so _grateful that you hauled me out of there? Is the first follower of Fen'Harel a cock-sheath? _His eyes had widened in horror and he shook his head.

_No! Of course not, nothing like that. Cha'cer, I had just stolen power so… so filling and so constantly filling it felt like my mind was overflowing. I should not have thrown you over my shoulder as I did but I hardly had time to argue with you about the wisdom of my actions, _he'd argued, sitting up. _I apologize for the insult but I will _not _apologize for taking you with me._

_Did I fucking ask you to free me? _she demanded.

_Did you wish to remain a slave? _he returned.

_You don't think I would have preferred to free myself, or do you not think I'd be capable of doing that monumental thing in a totally autonomous way? _she asked. He considered for a moment, then sighed and shrugged.

_I do not know, Cha'cer. I believe you may have freed yourself- you also may have died in the attempt. That is your right, of course, but I would imagine you would prefer to remain alive should the option be available. _His face turned serious and he took her hand like he had in field when they met. _Ar lath ma, vhenan'ara. Elgar'lin. Cha'cer. It was selfish, and perhaps still is, but I saw a way to free you and save you and I took it. I would have you serve beside me as no less than a partner, _he whispered. She huffed irritably and moved closer to him, kissing his weary eyes and full mouth.

_It wouldn't do. You're Divine now, elgar'lin, and that means something. Make me your general and I'll tear them to shreds and deliver them to you, _she promised softly. _I could have freed myself, if you hadn't swooped in and done it for me. There are others though that need you- need us. When I look at you I see that your _kindness _doesn't end at me and I'm willing to follow you for that._

_I love you, Cha'cer, _he'd whispered reverently, pulling her against him to hold her there.

_Of course you do. I'm fucking lovable, _she returned, peppering frantic kisses against his skin. It was starting to sink in- no matter how she'd got there, she was there. She was free. What happened now was her choice and as he'd quietly begged her to serve at his side as his general, she'd agreed breathlessly before he'd begun to undress her.

They'd stopped having sex, of course, centuries ago. _Fizzled out _was the term though it implied that the feelings had left as well. Fen'Harel was still her soul-twin, a blood brother, and as he irritably looked up at her as if she had answers about the foolish, scrawny, spy-mage that had infiltrated their fortress, she wished she had them for his peace of mind.

Instead she kissed his forehead. "She asked if we were fucking," she said. He frowned and asked who she meant. "The spy-mage, Sevin or Saccharin or something."

"Saevin," he corrected.

"Whatever. She asked."

"Is that why you were trying to explain _sa'elgar _to her?" he asked. She nodded, managing to gently untangle the last bit of metal from his hair. "What an odd question."

"Not if you're looking to bed someone," she said, raising an eyebrow. He wrinkled his nose, shaking out his hair before lying back again.

"She isn't looking to bed me, Cha'cer. She looks at me with barely restrained terror and resentment, if she looks at me at all. She usually tries to avoid it altogether- perhaps my face really is that displeasing to her," he mused.

"They say you look like pride," she said. He shook his head.

"No, _Solas _is the name of the man. She was quiet about him- perhaps they were lovers," he said. Cha'cer shrugged and tried to arrange them into a more comfortable position.

"Still, might be worth checking into if they aren't saying anything worthwhile when they think we can't understand," she said. He frowned again and she bit back the reprimand. A shame if his pretty face stuck that way.

"What might be worth looking into?"

"Fucking her, you great tit." She hadn't had to hold his hand so much since he'd been cock deep in her for fuck sakes. He considered for a moment, narrowing his eyes and staring at the star-spilled sky outside.

"Would you be all right with that?" he asked finally. She snorted and shrugged instead of a proper answer and wiggled out from under him.

"Come on, boss man, to bed if you're going to be laying on me all night. Mind the daggers," she said, tossing them onto the window sill so she could arrange the blankets. He didn't press the issue of sleeping with the spy, instead crawling in next to her and latching onto her back as if he were a few feet shorter and a lot less broad in the shoulder.

.

..

...

...

wow can u tell how attached I am to chacer so important to me and just in case u missed it last time she belongs to ingredientx ! also just to make sure there isnt a universe where chacer is completely happy, ingredientx is gunna be posting some side stuff with her in this universe, so u get direct from the source material sads ! also I usually have the next chapter written by the time I post the latest one but in this case I DON'T so uhm my sterling update record is gunna plummet as I figure out where theyre going next. don't worry tho it wont be like months. just like. days probably.

OH GOD that's what else I wanted to say. I MAKE UP a lot (read: pretty much all) of the elvish i use, so to eradicate confusion, _sa'elgar _is the actual term for what they are (one spirit- the twin souls thing is actually canon but they didn't give me an elvish word for it and it seemed like the sort of thing that needed a poncy elvish phrase) and _elgar'lin _is what they call each other (spirit blood, yeah?). and cha'cer chaos blade spec is also totally made up (well, the bit at the beginning is, sort of. it's like butchered welsh for 'chaos' but i moved some shit around to make it match with 'mi, which is canon elvish for 'blade' [which makes da'mi, the term fen'harel referred to her as, 'little blade']). I try to put translations in for the shit that isn't on the wiki but sometimes I forget because I try to convince myself the dictionary we have is actually worth something.

anyway thats all i got for now. im really attached to platonic soulmate chacer and fenharel, but in all fairness im also really attached to non-platonic chacer and fenharel. I think I got all the pairings that are gunna go down in this story straight now tho, so expect it to all get a bit untangled later.


	4. Chapter 4

Fen'Harel was staring at her.

It had been five full minutes and he simply continued to watch her, frowning thoughtfully as if she were supposed to be doing something and he couldn't fathom what was taking her so long. She wondered if he knew she could see him- they were in the garden again and she was reading one of the theory books Dorian had begged her to look through. _I can't believe I'm saying this but if I read one more book- or Maker forbid, have to have Cha'cer translate another book for me- I'm going to jump out a window. _He was going stir crazy so she'd offered to help.

No mention of magical orbs, though, which she suspected would be helpful. Instead it was just pages and pages of theories regarding hedge magic and the superiority of staves over mana-channelling crystals embedded into jewellery. "You bite your lip when you read," he said, finally acknowledging her.

"I know," she responded, at a loss for words. Solas had told her the same thing- she'd grinned and fluttered for a second, trying to hide how pleased she was that he'd noticed her at all. _You bite your lip when you read, _he'd said quietly, leaning over her to reach a book that she was sure he didn't rightly need. _You watch me read, _she'd returned with a grin.

"It is a… charming habit," he said in the same tone Solas used when she surprised him by not being a raging Dalish supremacist.

"I'm not sure what you mean by that, _haren,"_ she said shortly. He laughed quietly.

"I mean that I find it attractive," he said. She felt her arms seize up for a moment and her mouth opened as if she were going to say something, but no sound came out. Six red eyes blinked in her head and she felt her mouth go dry. "I apologize. Perhaps the image of the wolf is still too fresh in your mind for me to play at flirting."

"It _was _only a few days ago," she said in an unbecoming squeak, clearing her throat. He moved from the bench he was sitting on to the ground beside her, his casual and very sparse green tunic smudging where it brushed in the dust. His arms glowed bronze in the perpetually dim orange light of the garden and if she looked (which she did) she could see the hard lines of his chest where his tunic split in the sides. She had been given clothes to wear as well, and though it was more modest than what she was usually comfortable in, the fact that her light brown tunic was _elven _in its simple way made her giddy.

It was also clean, which put it one-up on her own clothes.

"Is that how you mean to tell me you are not interested?" he asked with a boyish smile. She watched him carefully, waiting for a tell. His jaw was smooth, his eyes were slightly pinched in the sunlight- nothing obvious to tip her off. Just a clever, smug grin that flashed some white (pointed) teeth while his arm subtly moved a bit closer to her body.

_I hate him I hate him I hate him. _Her gut clenched with how angry she was because he looked _exactly _like Solas. Even in the ways that he was less uptight and less restrained, she could see a glimmer of the man Solas would sometimes let slip- when he would grin and nip at her ears just to watch them twitch and sputter with purple lightning, or when he would run his hands down her abdomen when they were alone and whisper in her ear that _he was cold, da'vin _and perhaps she would warm him? _Those _had been remnants of a Solas that she had always thought younger, less reserved, less _frightened _of being with someone.

It wasn't fair that Fen'Harel should remind her so strongly of him, just without the bits that had torn them apart. Solas was _hers _to hate and _hers _to mourn and this strange twin of his was spoiling it.

"I am taken," she said shortly, turning back to her book.

"By that Solas fellow you mentioned?" he asked, and she felt her teeth _grind _together.

"Yes." It was simpler than explaining that Solas had been the first person to look at her and see someone intelligent and curious, rather than silly and unfocused; that he had been the first man to look at her and see an _adult_ who was capable of giving and receiving love physically if that was her wish, and who had asked her for no more than she would consent to give him.

"You told me that he had left your group. Would that not also imply that your association with him was finished?" he asked, leaning back. She snapped the thick, boring tome in her hands closed.

"If you aren't busy, _haren, _I would like to return the book I borrowed from my friend." She didn't wait for his permission to stay or go, but unfolded herself from the ground and stomped back towards the library. She was bolder when he wasn't Divine, more so when she could forget for a few moments that a wolf stirred under his skin.

_"Atisha, _Saevin, wait for a moment," he said, taking her hand. She shut her eyes and tried to imagine what his palm would feel like after two thousand years worth of spirit magic to heal the burns and cracks. _"Ir abelas. _I forget myself too often in your presence it seems, but I will not push you. Only know that you are… singularly fascinating to me." She hadn't been looking for a tell but she imagined that there was one.

_To what end though? _She took her hand away from him without turning around and walked forward again.

. . . .

The library was empty when they arrived, which seem to disturb both of them. _"Fenedhis, _Cha'cer, what are you up to?" he murmured, turning on his heel. Saevin frowned a bit as she followed him- Dorian _did _have free reign of the Keep, after all. Who was to say he hadn't gone for a walk? She supposed, though, that Fen'Harel would know his general better than most would, so perhaps a deviation from routine _was _alarming.

He was leading her back towards the rogue's room and she struggled to keep up, almost having to jog to keep pace with him. "Cha'cer?" he demanded, knocking on her door.

_"Shit," _came the muffled response from within, and he almost broke the thing off its hinges trying to get into the room. Cha'cer was standing on the bed and trying to hook a buckle on some strange, tight armour for Dorian. She shook out her hand, pressing a slight cut to her mouth. _"Aneth'ara," _she said without removing her finger from her lips. Fen'Harel frowned and Saevin slipped around him to approach Dorian.

_"Lethallin?_" she asked, tugging a slightly bent strap into place.

"I'm _stressed," _he said firmly. "I've been reading so much my _eyes _are blurring, and I haven't done any proper magic since we got here. I can feel it building up and I'm almost one hundred percent sure that _kills _Tevinter mages." That sounded like a joke but Saevin scowled anyway. He returned it with a pseudo-comforting grin. "Don't worry so much, _amicus_. Cha'cer says that as long as I can spit fire I'll be fine, and there's nothing I do better- well, in battle."

"Should you take Bull? I mean, considering you're going to fight a fucking _god,"_ she hissed. Dorian rolled his eyes.

"Don't breathe a wordabout me going to fight without him. The Bull's getting restless too and he'll start trying to convince me to let him toss me around the battlefield again if he thinks he can guilt me into it," he said, shaking his head. She snorted quietly.

"At least they have armour that fits you," she said.

"Well, Solas always used to tell you elves were bigger than they are," he said, shifting his shoulders again. He was obviously unused to medium armour. "About…" he paused. "Saevin a few days ago, at breakfast. We were pushing you and we shouldn't have. I can't speak for the others, of course, but I want you to know that I…" He shook his head.

"You what?" she asked.

"Ugh but this is difficult. _I am sorry," _he said, then let out a huffing sigh. "There, all out in the open now! I know you and Solas were together and I know you ended badly, so we shouldn't have poked the wound." She rocked back on her heels, guilt crawling in her stomach.

"I'm sorry as well, for what it's worth. You were all friends with him too and I shouldn't have shouted." They fell into silence for a moment, the intangible leaden blanket that Solas had become draped over both of their shoulders. She sighed irritably, trying to think of something to say to banish the moment.

"Remember your first Satinalia?" Dorian asked suddenly. She gnawed her lip and nodded.

"Wasn't just mine. Solas, Bull, and Cole had never bothered with it either." And the _horror _on Josephine's face when they had expressed confusion at her festive mood and all her silly fairy-light and crystal grace decorations that were springing up all over the Keep. Sae had _heard _of the holiday, certainly, but the Dalish had only ever marked it with wine if they bothered at all. Solas had never been close enough to a proper civilization to learn specifically what it was, and Iron Bull had laughed off Josie's shock because _the Chargers don't need an excuse to get shitfaced, Ruffles. _Cole had only the vaguest impressions of the holiday from the people he read, and was fascinated. _It makes them so happy- how does it do that? It's not even real._

"Simpler times, no? Bull got everyone a single vial of Sun Blonde Vint-1," he said fondly.

"The two of you were the only ones who could stomach it," she added with a grin. He laughed loudly, nodding his head. She didn't miss the way his neck turned pink. "And Vivienne got everyone one of those silky scarves from Val Royeaux?"

"If I'd have had any more of those Blondes I would have danced with them," he said wryly. She snorted and tried to clap her hand over her mouth to muffle it. "And then Cole, poor Cole, I thought Sera was going to kill him when he started giving gifts. Bull was caught between being horrified that the boy had gone that deep in his head to find something and on the brink of tears." The Spirit had somehow found everyone something naturally perfect- and mildly invasive.

He'd baked cookies for Sera- they were lopsided and a little burnt, but Sae knew Sera had eaten every one of them. Blackwall had received an empty Joining pendant (apparently Cole had unnerved one of the Wardens enough to give him one) and slipped it over his head with a huff and patted Cole's back gruffly. Cassandra received her missing locket with her brother's picture in it _(I didn't take it, I promise- a rat had stolen it)_, and Varric an amateur portrait of all the main characters of _Tales of the Champion (one of the scullery maids is very good at drawing- she wanted me to show you)._ One after another they received his gifts with tight smiles, clutching at the presents a little too tightly to be displeased with his snooping, until Solas.

They had all thought that he would react the best- after all, he could anticipate that Cole was going to act strangely. He had been given a box. It was rather large, but still small enough to fit comfortably on a vanity. It was made of a simple, pale blonde wood with intricate designs carved into it, but heavily weathered over time. It practically squealed when it opened, it's hinges so rusted- when Solas opened it, with his mouth parted ever so slightly and his fingers trembling- but once the lid was pushed back, there was a tinkling sound of a lullaby that wound out on whirring cogs within. Inside there were old paints and brushes, and shattered pads of what looked like make-up, with a dusty mirror that reflected Solas' damp eyes. _Excuse me, _he'd burst, and taken the box and fled the room.

"We should do that again, sometime," Dorian said absently.

"Next Satinalia I assume?" she asked and he shrugged.

"Maybe we should just do something to remind ourselves that we're all still alive- without the dark cloud of _actually having lived through something _to ruin the fun," he said with a grin. She laughed, because he was right- Josie's Corypheus afterparty had been frantic in its revelry, desperate to assure all those in attendance that things were Normal with a capital N (and all thanks to the Inquisition, Josie was quick to remind them).

"We're heading out now _shem, _let's go!" Cha'cer called, interrupting their quiet plans. Dorian nodded and straightened up proudly as Cha'cer turned her attention back to him and away from a _fuming _Dread Wolf.

"I'm not asking you to stay because I think you'll die, I'm asking you to stay so you don't get _him _killed!" he hissed, jabbing his finger towards Dorian with such passion that a lick of fire burst into life. Cha'cer rolled her eyes.

"He would only be killed if we lost, and we don't lose!" she insisted, crawling over to snatch Dorian's staff from where it leaned on the bedside table. "We're a guerilla squad, not an army."

"You are putting your charge in danger," he hissed. She snapped her head up and glared at him so coldly that Saevin froze. She thought for sure that the rogue was going to attack him.

_"You are putting your charge in danger," _she said in a high, shrill imitation. He frowned and she mimicked that as well.

"Cha'cer I am _not _playing with you right now," he snapped.

_"Cha'cer I am _not _playing with you right now." _She'd pitched her voice lower for his anger.

**"Listen to me."**

_"Listen to me." _

"Cha'cer I **forbid **you from taking this man into the field," he shouted. The room froze and Saevin took Dorian's arm in case they had to make a run for it. Both of the elves in front of them had mana pulsing under their skin and Sae wondered how she was meant to anticipate a burst of destructive magic from someone whose job it was to let it all loose as quickly as possible.

"You can't fucking stop me. _You, _princess, are going to stay up in your tower with Satchel over here-," she jerked her hand towards Saevin, who could only assume that she was the 'Satchel' in question, "- and let your people do their fucking jobs." She turned sharply towards Dorian and threw him his staff, which he managed to catch even with Saevin digging her nails into him. "Let's go."

Dorian ruffled Saevin's hair comfortingly then hurried after the fuming rogue. Fen'Harel didn't pursue them, instead standing in the middle of the room to clench and unclench his long, thin fingers like he wanted to strangle someone.

"They aren't _really _fighting… one of the pantheon, are they?" Saevin asked anxiously, moving to stand beside him. The memory of Solas in happier times had shamed her again- though he had been vague about the gift that had disturbed him so _(it is a trinket I made for a friend long ago, _da'vin, _and I would prefer not to speak of it)_, he had given Saevin a lovely carving of a halla with glass horns, and even coyly kissed her under a bundle of crystal grace hanging in a scandalously public doorway. Whatever his shortcomings (and Saevin was beginning to believe there were simultaneously more and fewer than Dalish legend claimed) Fen'Harel had been nothing but kind. If he had a hidden agenda, it was his own business- she was no spy and only required sufficient time to work out her spell.

"Worried your sponsor will think you've gone turncoat?" he demanded sharply. She rolled her eyes and turned away from him, giving him a moment to pout about Cha'cer disobeying him…

… and her eyes fell upon a box.

Her mouth went dry. It was rather large, but still fit unobtrusively on the vanity _(her jaw felt weak and unhinged). _It was made of a simple, pale blonde wood with intricate designs sharply carved into the lid and sides _(she started shaking her head and Fen'Harel took notice as she reached out and ran her fingertips across the lid). _

"What are you doing?" he asked standing so close behind her she could feel his heat _(Solas had always been so warm, which had been a relief when he'd begun to sleep next to her). _She pressed her hand harder onto the box and slowly lifted the lid- Fen'Harel reached out and rapped it shut. "That is not yours," he said, but his voice was teasing. Apparently he'd remembered his game.

She slapped his hand away and felt him frown _(Solas' face never moved in a vacuum- his smiles were physical, his frowns twisting his aura, his sneers pulling back his shoulders and straightening him into a different person). _She lifted the box again and it opened soundlessly. Once it was fully agape, a sweet tinkling lullaby began to play on whirring cogs within, the sound only just audible as the box hummed _(perhaps the box Solas had received was only a replica that he'd made of this one- but Saevin was reaching and she knew it). _A small mirror hung as clear as water on the lid and inside were all manners of tubes and powders- make-up, war paints, applicator brushes, all thrown haphazardly into the pile.

"Does this belong to Cha'cer?" she asked faintly.

"Yes," Fen'Harel answered simply, watching her closely.

"Where did she get it?" She knew the answer before the smile blossomed on his lips.

"I made it for her- I used to sit with June for hours to watch him work, and finally he insisted that I actually _do _something with my hands. Apparently my watching was unnerving him," he said with a tight smile. Saevin shut the box carefully, trying to take in deep, calming breaths without alerting _him (perhaps Solas had simply been lying, though why would he lie about something as stupid as a box?)_. "I daresay I unnerve him a bit more thoroughly now, though he would never admit it- are you quite all right, Saevin?" he asked gently, his hand pressing to her back.

Saevin spun around and slapped him so hard her palm stung.

. . . . .

Sera spat on the ground, her limbs twitching restlessly. The guard they got to follow her around, some bored looking redhead who barely said a word to her even as she skulked around, was letting her mind wander again. So Sera slipped away, ducking into the kitchen where everyone had those stupid face things.

They were whispering in their elf-words, and didn't notice when she took an apple from the table. They noticed her when she sat down, though, staring at them like it was a spectator sport. "You're… not supposed to be here," the man said in a trembling voice.

"Oh don't worry. I won't tell no one what you say- I can do something else though," she said, hopping off the table. They flinched like they'd been hit. "You give me a name, I make your lives a little easier, right? So like… take that one elf." She gestured outwards and they stared incredulously. "Pft, well, I guess you're all elves ain't ya. Shit, you know the one though, she's got those tattoos on your face like you do and she's always sitting up at the big table with the boss."

"Y...You mean General Cha'cer?" the other elf offered timidly. Sera clicked her tongue and pointed directly at the trembling creature.

"Yer damn right I do. It's a game, right, and it's easy. She fucks with you, I fuck with her!" Sae had warned her not to piss off Fen'Harel, but that wasn't how you played Jenny's game. People in power always had too much of it, and when you happened to probably be fucking a god? Recipe for disaster, though she supposed Sae'd been hittin' it too (though Dorian said they weren't supposed to talk about how Solas was old as balls anymore because of how it'd upset her, but in Sera's opinion the Inquisitor needed to be slapped upside the head with a bit of truth once in a while).

"Why would we want you to do that?" the man asked with a frown. Sera rolled her eyes- Andraste it was like the first three days of the Inquisition all over again.

"Look, it isn't a hard if you're not trying to make a day of it. She comes in here, puffed as piss and starts throwin' shit around, you tell me and sudddenly, her breeches are decorating the front yard, right?" she asked. They blinked owlishly and she scowled. _For fuck sakes…_

"General Cha'cer never messes anything up on purpose, and when she does she fixes what she broke," the one on the right said firmly.

"Not the point is it, point is that it was broke in the first place!" More silence greeted her and she groaned. "Look just think about it, yeah? Gotta get out of here before my brain putties out my fuckin' ear." She turned around and stalked out, just in time to see guards chasing Saevin across the yard as she dived towards the stables.

_Finally_, someone was doing what Sera wanted to do.

.

..

...

...

...

not sure how I like this bit but satisfied enough to post it. hmmmmm didnt make up any elvish shit to translate. OH Ingredientx posted a story called 'endure' and it's HECKA sad and has sae AND chacer in it (will chacer ever be happy? we just dont know, but we do know i never will again) and pretty much 24/7 tears.

also thank u so much for all your reviews I read them when I'm in boring lectures and laugh to myself bc ur all so sweet n cute I have em all saved in my email i just hoard them. a ferocious dragon writing about elves kissing and sitting on her pile of reviews. anyway this is kind of like a bridge chapter. things happened here that are important later but as it is. here we are.


	5. Chapter 5

The Dread Wolf was _consumed. _He knew not with what, but knew that it sat heavy on his forehead and made his neck ache to bear the weight of it. He traced the spot she'd slapped, the stinging long since subsided and the mark faded, and a shiver ran through him. The way that she'd _looked _at him when she'd done it, fury and fire and blackened hate. She'd jumped at him again after she'd hit him, as if she meant to take him to the floor.

Another shiver ran through him that he didn't quite understand the same way he understood his anger. She had slapped him as if he had done anything wrong, moved to attack him as if his Divinity wasn't even there to stop her. On the other hand… _she'd slapped him. _His head had jerked to the side and she'd grabbed his collar and dragged him down to her height with a scowl. Furious and hurt and ache in her eyes, she had almost brought a god to his knees for the sheer satisfaction of hurting him.

He wondered if he might've liked it in a… _different _context.

He heard Cha'cer giggling as she approached her room, and heard her put the _blessedly still alive _human mage to bed with a quick _they'll still be on fire in the Void, _lethallin_, you do good work!_ He clenched his fists and avoided his reflection in the vanity that he sat before, toying with Cha'cer's box.

She walked in and naturally noticed him immediately, swaying over to kiss his head. It was cold and perfunctory and he could tell she was still angry at him from trying to keep her inside. It was a fine line they walked sometimes- he had to remember that he had meant for her to be his partner, and that didn't change because his Divinity forbade it. He could give her directions, but never orders. "How was your day? Wank about how unfair everything is to pretty little Salamander?" she asked.

"You mean Saevin," he said darkly.

"Whatever. She didn't manage to pull you out of your pouting with her sweet floppy ears and great big eyes?" She was mocking him and he ignored it, not quite understanding the implications. _She _had suggested that he seduce the mage for information, after all.

Cha'cer began to undress and it was a testament to his foul mood that even despite how platonic they'd become in nature, he did not turn his head to watch.

"She _hit _me," he said. Cha'cer froze, then straightened herself up with alarming deliberance.

"And where's the little shit now?" she asked quietly. Fen'Harel shook his head firmly.

"I did not tell you so you could hunt her down, Cha'cer. I need to know what to do with her next. She attacked me- I had not done anything to provoke it, either. She stood and watched the music box I made you with an expression akin to sickness, and when I asked her what was wrong she _flew_ at me," he explained. Cha'cer demeanour relaxed, but only enough to assure him that revealing Saevin's location would no longer be a death sentence for her.

"So instead of snuffing the threat against your person immediately, you want to…" she trailed off and put that special look on her face that let him know she thought he was being ridiculous. He sighed.

"Figure out why?" he suggested. She scowled and he mirrored her. "Should I instead put her to the axe?" he demanded.

_"Yes?"_

_"No, _Cha'cer. I waited for you to return because she attempted to flee the fort and her elven friend without mana was aiding her. I wanted you to question her while I worked with Saevin," he said. The general gritted her teeth, then gave him a curt nod. "Thank-you, _vhenan'ara. _I know that we fought today-,"

"Just shut up and tell me where to find Sneeze and her elf friend," she said shortly. Fen'Harel smiled and put his arms around her, sighing slowly.

"I am fine, Cha'cer. I promise," he assured her softly. She snorted.

"Did I ask? Now did you want me to fucking interrogate this elf or did you want to rub your grubby hands all over me?" she asked shortly. He grinned, kissing the side of her head.

"Ideally both, but if you are impatient to begin, I am keeping them in my quarters," he told her. She raised an eyebrow, whistling low. "What?"

"You locked two very volatile women in your quarters while they're presumably pissed off? You aren't worried they're gunna break something?" she asked, wiggling away from him. His eyebrows shot almost to his hairline.

"Shit."

. . . . .

Saevin was laying in bed- his bed, but in the future it would be gone and replaced with a sleazy Orlesian number whose large, silky, golden blankets did not just mean _purposely lazy _like Saevin had thought, but more along the lines of _decadent sex _(hers either way)_. _Solas had laughed when she'd found out that she'd purchased the equivalent of an expensive brothel bed, turning pink all the way up to her ears- he laughed less when he'd been shoved back into that bed and she'd gotten on top of him, _no Solas, I like your hands where they are _right now _and I might tie them there to keep them nice and still_…

She groaned and rolled over on her stomach while Sera paced restlessly. "You ain't even a little concerned with what he's gunna do?" she asked angrily. The Inquisitor shrugged.

"I don't care."

"Well _I_ fuckin' care! I don't wanna die here because you tried to tear some weird freaky god-Solas apart with your hands!" she snapped. Sae cringed and shut her eyes, sinking down lower into the bed, if that were even possible. Sera swore quietly and went to sit near her, hesitantly putting her hand on her back- it was absurdly comforting.

"I'm sorry. I'll… get up and do something about this," she said softly.

"No you're gunna sit your skinny ass down and listen to me, and when I'm done you're gunna get up and get us out of here like you always do. You listenin'?" she asked. Sae nodded. "Well all right, so, I know I used to make fun of you and Solas and I know you got mad when you two broke up. And finding out he was an elf god prick who was fuckin' _lying about it _the whole time is… shite, fersure."

"You're reacting a lot better than I thought you would," Sae said with a smile. Sera rapped her knuckles on her back.

"I dunno. It just seems like. Well I ain't gunna waste my day on it because it was there the whole time, yeah? He knew how to speak your goofy elf language and he dicked around in the Fade and told us he learn fuckin' _everything _there, fuck sakes even his stupid drawings on the wall were filled with wolves. It… sorta makes sense? I don't think he's a real _god _or nothing, like he said they were prolly just mages or some shite." She'd started to run her hand up and down Sae's back, like Sae would do for her after particularly nasty fights with demons and nobles alike.

"It's just so… infuriating, especially knowing all that. Knowing that he lied to me the whole time, let me sleep with him and never told me who he was?" she asked, sitting up. Sera grinned.

"Mad's good. Bein' sad's a waste a' time, bein' _mad _gets shit done!" she said excitedly.

"Like what?" she asked, feeling adrenaline push through her suddenly.

"First, this-," she leaned over and squeezed Saevin tightly, arms around her shoulders. "Because you were sad I dunno, hugs help with sads. _Second… _shit, let's throw his bed off the balcony." Saevin snorted, covering her mouth to try and keep it contained. "No fuck off, I'm serious. You got magic shite, just fuckin' magic it over or something!" she said excitedly.

"Sera…" she scolded, then paused. _The look on his face when he told her about her _vallaslin, _his mouth twisted as if the wrong words were coming out. _Constantly _referring to the elves as HIS people to exclude HER people, then denouncing elves altogether. Taking her aside to tell her that the orb was elven and they must appear above suspicion, showing her Skyhold for the first time _knowing _where it was and what it was and not breathing a word to her… sleeping next to her for months, sleeping _with _her in the most carnal sense, drawing out secrets and stories from her that she'd never told anyone…_ "I can't magic it off but if you grab one end I'll take the other- it's a futon it can't be _that _heavy."

"Fuckin' _right!"_

. . . . .

Fen'Harel caught them before they'd managed to hoist his bed off the _mountainside, _sharply snapping it back into place and knocking the blonde elf over in the process. "Dare I ask the point of that exercise?" he demanded. Saevin had the good sense to look mildly repentant, but more upset with being _caught _than actually having tried to go through with it. "Well? I would know what I have done to so offend you."

She was silent for a while and the blonde elf stood up and planted herself in front of her with a sneer. On cue, Cha'cer stood in front of Fen'Harel and merely watched the mana-less elf with an unnervingly blank stare. "You want me to grab her now?" his general asked. He nodded and gestured, which seemed to upset Saevin. She grabbed her friend and lighting formed lavender pools on her hands.

"Don't touch her," she warned and Sera snorted.

"Like I'm afraid of lil' miss tats here," she said derisively. There was a beat, then suddenly Saevin was shoved to the side and Cha'cer _jumped _on Sera with a snarl that seemed to befit the Dread Wolf better. She swung back to ram her fist into the elf's face and Saevin shouted- Fen'Harel was faster though, catching her wrist and hushing her gently, pulling her off of their prisoner.

She was howling elven too quickly for Saevin to understand but she could see by the way the general grew so flushed and furious with every second the Dread Wolf _dared _to hold her back that it wasn't anything kind. "Cha'cer _please,"_ he growled, trying to pin her arms down.

_"You get your fucking hands off of me pup or I swear I will fucking ram my boot so far up your ass that Andruil will fucking feel it get off of me __**I'm going to kill her!**__"_ Saevin understood that much before it dissolved into quivering curses that bit into the air. The redness on the general swelled into fire and Fen'Harel still held tight and made meaningful eye contact with her.

"Sera, apologize," she hissed.

_"Fuckin' why should I?_ All those elves with the fuckin' tattoos think they're so much better than us, better than _me _because I wear shoes and don't wanna live out in the woods with the fuckin' bears and shit! Like fuck I'll give the _general _here an apology, she can fuckin' lick me! I don't say sorry to nobles, Inquisitor, I fucking don't and I won't!" she shouted.

"Sera for fuck sakes _please _she's not exactly stable at the moment!" Saevin shouted.

_"You want to see __**stable **__you bare-faced bitch?"_ Cha'cer shrieked, kicking back. It disoriented the Dread Wolf long enough for her to tear from his grasp and _jump _towards Saevin, taking her to the floor in one fluid motion. Saevin flinched, lighting pressed against her skin but not nearly as fast as the rogue could punch-

-there was a burst of hard blue light and everything froze. Cha'cer's hands remained raised over her head, her mouth poised to spit at Saevin, but the blow never came. She scrambled out from where the rogue had pinned her and ran over to Sera, whose face was pale as milk. She checked to make sure the rogue had done no damage, then turned to see the Divine Fen'Harel kneeling by Cha'cer and speaking soothingly into her ear. She sat and waited, her hands shaking with unspent mana and terror.

He approached her next, kneeling and letting his Divinity wash over them like healing. Her pulse relaxed and her terror abated- it unnerved Sera, who immediately stood and moved away. _"_I warned you not to mention the _vallaslin,"_ he murmured quietly, just to her. She was under a spell, she realized- one just powerful enough to lull her. She liked it, oddly enough- _Solas _didn't grate against her insides, _Fen'Harel _didn't claw against her ribs, and _hopelessly stranded in time _didn't pound behind her eyes.

_"Ir abelas," _she whispered, though it felt ingenuine. He smiled, small and sweet. _"Haren, _Sera has had… bad experiences with those in the service of the pantheon. She is distrustful and doesn't understand- she hated my _vallaslin _as well-,"

"You had _vallaslin?"_ he asked, frowning and tracing against her skin and scars with his hands. She nodded.

"I was dedicated to June-" Understanding bloomed on his face.

"I spoke of June before, thoughtlessly. I see my error now, and I apologize for this misunderstanding. You bear his marks no longer, though- how did that come to be?" he asked, his voice low and urgent. She frowned, but remembered that Fen'Harel didn't know the spell yet. _Well I don't know it either, Solas, so I suppose we're stuck here._

"They were taken from me by… by a man who couldn't stand to see them, I suppose. I don't know how he did it or where he is now, though. I'm sorry, _haren."_ His face fell and he looked back at Cha'cer.

"Perhaps you could speak with her of your _vallaslin, _if the memory is not too painful. She sees bare-faced elves and takes them for people who have never felt hardship or pain. Often, she is right- however I think on this occasion she is not," he said encouragingly. She nodded, deciding not to dispel him of his belief that her sensitivity about 'servitude' to June had been the reason she hit him, and stood to shakily walk towards a still Cha'cer.

She knelt in front of her, the frozen expression of rage not unlike that of a stuffed mountain lion displayed in Orlais. _"Ir abelas, _Cha'cer, Sera does not know what she says. She's had bad experiences at the hands of those with _vallaslin _and does not fully understand their significance. I used to be marked by June, before they were cleansed from my face. I do not know the spell that achieved it- I am sorry," she blurt, more unnerved by the statue than she thought she would be. Cha'cer's expression didn't change, but she supposed that it was due to the magic that Fen'Harel kept her suspended in.

Saevin felt him approach and crouch beside her. "Stay behind me, Saevin," he urged her quietly, opening his palms to the ceiling. The Veil trembled and Cha'cer dropped, taking in a long deep breath- not as if she had been denied air, but more like her chest had been unable to heave with the howl she had wanted to let loose.

"How do you feel, _elgar'lin?"_ Fen'Harel asked softly, reaching out to her. She threw herself to her feet and tackled the Dread Wolf to the floor, huffing as her lungs reaquainted themselves with proper diaphragm contractions. Her teeth were bared but she didn't attack him- instead she clenched his collar and tugged at it, her teeth gritted so tightly that it made Saevin's jaw ache to watch.

"You hold me back, you use your _Divinity _on me, then you leave me sitting there?" she asked furiously.

_"Abelas_, _elgar'lin." _It was to his credit that he didn't try to explain himself.

"Never again," she snarled. "You are better than her, Wolf, you're better than Ghilan'nain who would use her Divinity on her followers as if they were disobedient dogs!" He bowed his head and the silvery-blue glow faded and the man sat back. She stopped pinning him and instead just rested on him to try and reorient herself with her surroundings.

"I'm sorry, Cha'cer," he repeated. "I panicked and I was wrong."

"Damn _fucking _right you were wrong," she hissed, then took a moment to breathe. Fen'Harel was still underneath her as the tension poured out of her and she visibly relaxed, leaning down to kiss his jaw. "I didn't hurt you or anything, right?" she asked, a bit of the fire fading from her fists. He shook his head, then turned to their two prisoners. Sera was scowling and Sae was tense, waiting to see if Cha'cer had forgotten her rightful anger. The rogue sniffed irritably. "All right, let's get a few things straight so Sniffles will quit staring at me like I'm going to bite her."

"Get the fuck away!" Sera hissed. Cha'cer was kind and stopped moving towards them, instead flopping comfortably onto her ass about a foot from them.

"You, Blondie, are never going to mention the _vallaslin_. Not to me, not to the maids you've been harassing-"

"I ain't fuckin' harassing them it ain't harassin' them to offer to fuck shit up for them-"

"Shut. Up. And stop bugging the maids, and never _ever _mention anyone's _vallaslin, _bare-face," she snapped. Sera made a noise that was half a growl, but Saevin put a hand on her shoulder. They had to remember that it wasn't the same _now _as it would be- bare-face wasn't meant to imply that Sera was inferior, but more of a social commentary for the ancient elves. A presumably derogatory social commentary no harsher than calling humans _shems._ Cha'cer turned towards Saevin. "And you… you had…"

_"Vallaslin, _yes," she answered quickly. She traced the spots on her face where it had been. "I was dedicated to June and… I didn't understand the significance of it when it happened. When I learned, I took advantage of an opportunity presented to me."

"Who offered?" she asked sharply.

"Solas. I don't know where he is," she said, which was… mostly true. She knew that Solas was straightening himself up across the room, brushing dust off of his robes and trying to shake the absent wisps of Divinity still trapped in his head. _He_ was the wrong him, though.

"Could we track him down?" Cha'cer asked, turning to Fen'Harel. He nodded absently, gesturing Saevin forward. _Shit, shit, how do I tell him… how can I lie my way out of this… _

It hurt a little to wonder how many times Solas must have thought the same thing around her.

She approached but he merely gestured her towards the stairs and bid Cha'cer to do some minor interrogation of Sera before sending her on her way. "I would speak with you somewhere less… hostile, perhaps," he said quietly, pressing his palm to her back again.

. . . . .

Cha'cer stared Sera down, her lips twitching irritably. The blonde was pointedly ignoring her, instead rifling through Fen'Harel's desk. The general didn't let it bother her- she'd run tests on all of the companions within the first hour of them arriving at the Keep to verify that their claims of ignorance were genuine and they had been. Sera could read nothing of what was there, but her glib exploration as if it were her _right _made Cha'cer's stomach clench. "You're making a mess," she snapped finally.

"Oh what, is the great general gunna puff up and piss? Don't like dirt commoners touching your boyfriend's precious papers?" Sera returned mockingly, running her hand deliberately against the wood.

"He's doing work more precious than you could _ever _understand," Cha'cer hissed. "You bare-faces spit on us because we free your slaves and give them direction and purpose outside of your needs- how many slaves did _you _own?" she asked scathingly. Sera scowled.

"Why the _fuck _would I have slaves? Where would I get 'em? Fuckin' alienage is right full of 'em but they won't do _shit _for no other elves. Fuckin' bow and scrape to whoever'll pay 'em half a copper to lick 'em, but _you _general, are special because _you _make these poor pukes think they're doin' something worthwhile and servin' themselves. Well, what's gunna happen when you and Dread Titties is in charge, eh? Who's gunna scrub the fuckin' chamber pots after everyone's free?" Sera asked, her nails digging crescents into the wood.

"You dare to mock him, mock _us? _Fen'Harel and the Fangs have freed thousands who've kissed the dirt as they passed beyond their master's reach you shit fucking noble _bitch!"_ Cha'cer shouted, clenching her fists to her sides. Fen would throw a fit if she messed up his room just to _throttle _the bare-faced.

"I ain't a fuckin' noble didn't I just goddamn say that?" Sera asked, her nose curling in disgust. "If anyone here is noble it's fuckin' you. I scraped and stole for every bit I ever fuckin' had, while you sit here with your fancy fuckin' title and your troops an' shit."

Cha'cer paused, her eyes still narrowed in suspicion. "You accuse me of misuse of power? You have no _idea _what it's like to be a slave, thin-blood," she hissed. "The only _power _I had was when to scream and even that could be taken from me at the whim of bare-faces like you." Revulsion rose and fell like the tide and she tried to focus solidly on her environment. Fen's room. _Bed unmade, thick windows, smells of incense and elfroot. _

"Yeah so? That's who you were and now you're a general with a god at your back," she said coldly. Cha'cer snarled and slipped into stealth mode, meaning to at least put this insufferable, smug elf in her place. She had no empathy, no… sympathy. Elves lived and _died _in slavery with prayers to Fen'Harel on their cracked lips and this… _monster _thought that was funny? _Dared _to compare Cha'cer to those who would support the madness?

She shoved her blade into the desk, beside Sera's hand. The girl yelped but moved like she was trained for it, quickly snapping her head around the room to search for a weapon. Cha'cer stood where she was, _murder _in her eyes. "Nobility like you spit on the little people," she hissed, "but Fen'Harel and his Fangs, led by me, will see that those people reap the vengeance they deserve."

"If I have to tell you one more fuckin' time that I ain't noble I'm gunna scream. _You _with your fancy fuckin' titles, don't help the little people- you get 'em killed with your grand rebellions and sure, maybe I get a few killed too, but like… not as much as a fuckin' war! I pull shit on people like _you, _people who punch down, and the little people get to remember that big generals and gods and mages and all this other shit ain't even as scary as they want them to think," she said, then leapt to where one of Fen'Harel's staves were. She picked it up and swung it like a stick.

"Wait. You… pull shit?" Cha'cer asked with a frown. "What does that mean? How does that even help them, if it doesn't free them?" she asked, tearing her dagger out of Fen's desk with a messy twist. Sera's lip curled.

"Ruin a trade deal, steal some smalls, plant some embarrassing letters- it ain't hard to piss up a noble's day. You hear whispering from a chambermaid that her right and honourable lady's sucking the holy out of a Chantry's sister's pussy, you might arrange for the Mother to come back from her walkabout a bit earlier than usual to see the lady spreading the sister at the foot of the prophet," Sera said, the stave still held out awkwardly, as if it were a great club.

"The fuck is a Chantry?" Cha'cer asked with a frown. Sera groaned.

"Why don't anyone ever just smile and nod and say 'yeah Sera shit that's the easiest thing to understand in the blighted _world'_?" she asked angrily. "Look all right, I'll try to put it in your stupid elf terms. Gimmie the name of someone important," she ordered. Cha'cer balked at her tone but decided to let it drop.

"Ghilan'nain, goddess of-"

"Don't care, ain't important. Now, got anyone _really _embarrassing? Someone it would _destroy _her reputation to be seen suckin' off?" Sera asked with a grin. Cha'cer felt her lips tug into a sneer and she gave the idea some thought.

"A… a _durgen'len _Bronto," she said, almost excitedly. Sera laughed, and Cha'cer _liked _the sound. It was sacrilegious.

"So all right, I find out from one of the slaves that Ghilly-whilly's been whacking herself with a great big Deep Roads Bronto cock in the utmost of secrets. It's routine, right, because nobles and their fuckin' routines-"

"Like they can't just _do _anything, every part of their day is planned right up to the depravity," Cha'cer burst. Sera lowered her staff with a loose-shoulders slouch and grinned.

_"Right?_ But okay I hear whispers from some little friends that Ghilly-whacker fucks a Bronto every evenin' before she closes her great big elfy eyes at night. So I call in an emergency with the guards-" she paused then flung her arm over her face dramatically. _"Oh but I hear some awful shrieking coming from the bedroom, you must see if she still lives! _Then I piss off right?" She became more and more enthusiastic as the story went on, gesturing wildly in a manner that Cha'cer appreciated. It made the story more vivid. "And the guards burst in to see a Bronto cock deep in her lips and she starts howlin' and screamin'-" She began to imitate it and Cha'cer snorted loudly, her belly curling with laughter.

"I can _hear _it, _fenedhis _the ground would _shake _with her wailing," she said, the very thought uplifting her drastically.

"And that's it, yeah? It don't _do _nothin' 'cuz nobles can get away with murder if they play their cards right, but it gives the servants a good laugh and I dunno… just something nice to lighten the load, right?" she asked. Cha'cer nodded, her laughter fading a bit. "So you get it now? Not a fuckin' noble, not a fuckin' rebel, just a person trying to improve someone's day with a few pranks."

"I… believe that I do. Maybe. I'm not… I'm not a noble either. I _am _a rebel, but would see my men trained before I allowed them onto the field. Throwing helpless slaves at a target just because they're willing is foolhardy and… shitty," she said haltingly. Sera looked uncomfortable as well. Both of them shifted their weight back and forth, seeming to realize that they'd just gone from attacking each other to giggling over cock.

And both seemed to realize something of themselves in the other, which was supremely uncomfortable.

"Well, if that's all I should… go," Cha'cer said. "And you. You should go too, out of his room." She shooed Sera towards the steps and the blonde went quietly, casting a few looks back at Cha'cer as if it were suspicious that they were getting along.

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sorry this took so fucking long bc it was supposed to be like 5+ pages longer but then im like wait split it into two chapters and pump something out. so here it is. in all its glory. feel free to validate my obsession with elves and elves kissing by telling me what you think and thank you for all the reviews so far- I read all of them and giggle like a fuckin moron.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun hovered over the edge of the garden wall, casting a violently pink shade over everything. It reflected off of the bronze plates on Fen'Harel's dark robes, and the shining liquid gold diadem that rested on his forehead- he glowed pink. He kept his hands to himself and he had that look on his face- his _thinking _look, his _brooding _look. _Creators _but she missed Solas- if he were properly Solas, she could grin and tease a kiss out of him, then another, and another, until he held onto her like a vice and kissed her like he _needed _her…

He gestured for her to sit by a burst of royal purple and magenta blossoms, and she sat herself down as promptly as she could manage. He sat beside her, his body settling lazily- Solas had always taken his time to sit, curling his limbs as if it required great effort, but Fen'Harel looked sprawled and warm in the garden as the sun sank. She swallowed hard. "If I helped, do you think you could recreate the spell?" Fen'Harel asked suddenly. She jolted with a frown.

"Which spell is that _haren?" _she asked. He visibly balked when she referred to him as such, his lips pulling into a hard scowl when the word left her mouth. "Do you… not like _haren?" _Her face _burned _because Solas hadn't liked it either, but he hadn't liked it because he'd _wanted _her.

"I do not," he said shortly. She gnawed her lip.

"_- _S...Ser?" she asked slowly. He watched her, his serious face melting into a grin as he laughed. It was low and rough and came from his chest and made her stomach clench because it was _him. _After all this time he was there, right beside her.

"I have a name, Saevin. Certainly you are not too frightened of me to use it?" he asked as his mirth faded. She huffed, frowning as she felt her ears twitch. _Dorian will kill me if I play along with this. Dorian will absolutely flip out, I can hear every word about paradoxes and future consequences and terrible life-altering effects…_

"I'm not frightened. It only seems rude- you _are _a god, after all," she said, wrinkling her nose. He raised an eyebrow but his handsome smile never slipped from his face as he leaned in. There was a sparkle of Divinity in his eyes and a flash of red that warned her of the wolf under his skin, but she wasn't afraid. She'd brought the dog to heel once with Solas, she could do it again with Fen'Harel if she wanted to.

"Does that displease you? Or is it simply my wolfish demeanour that puts you off?" he asked, his limbs still loosely in her space though never touching her. She didn't mind- he would back off, if she told him to. The little voice in her head that stood in for Dorian warned it that it was a very good time to assert that small power and tell the wolf to leave before she ruined the future.

"It doesn't put me off," she said, and felt him lean in until the heat of his mouth was so close she could feel it- as if she were some foolish young woman seeking kisses in the garden. _That was for him, not for you. Solas made sure that I would never be so foolish again, and if you want a kiss you will earn it. I don't chase, not anymore. _She put her hand up to stop his mouth from connecting with her neck. "What spell were you asking me about, Fen'Harel?" she asked. There was a quiet rumble of a growl against her palm and then he pulled away.

"To remove the _vallaslin._ I thought perhaps if we studied enough books on the vile things we could work backwards through the method to remove it," he said, straightening his jaw and raising his chin but not moving away from her. She hadn't asked him to yet.

"_You _are a god, aren't you? Will them away if you want them gone so badly," she said, matching his haughty pose. He scowled darkly.

"I have tried, and for a time it worked- then June discovered that it worked and went through great pains to impress the marks upon the People with blood magic, so my spell could no longer free them," he explained. She frowned and curled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin there. If it had been a few months earlier, the revelation that the sacred ritual of blood writing was a painful measure taken to ensure no slave could claim their freedom might have broken her. As it stood, she wasn't sure that anything could surprise her any more.

"What did you do to remove them before?" she asked. He grinned and his Divinity clicked, sliding up and over him like it had been waiting in the ground for his call. She relaxed her knees, in case he tried something strange, but he merely took her face in his hands and brushed his thumbs against her cheekbones with the mildly unsettling smoke streaming from his eyes in silver-blue tendrils.

"Something like this," he murmured as he explored her features. She allowed it- Solas would do the same to learn her, as if he were worried that he would forget if he replied on his eyes. His thumb traced her crooked nose, her high cheekbones, down her square jaw and across her full lips. One hand move to brush back sooty-black hair and when he let go, he was grinning again. "Certainly not as… _explorative_, of course."

"I imagine not," she agreed, turning her head to try and hide the treacherous red that slid down her back as well.

"Perhaps you are simply impressive, to have captured the attention of a god," he suggested. She snorted.

"Perhaps _you _are special, to have not been sent away yet," she returned. "Or special because I don't spurn you outright despite the fact that you're being ingenuine," she added shortly. He let his Divinity sink back into his skin and disappear.

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

"I can tell when someone's lying to get something. I don't know _what _you want from me, but it's certainly _something,"_ she said, looking him dead in the eye as Keeper Dashana had taught her to. He laughed, which hadn't been the anticipated reaction.

"So suspicious! _Fenedhis_ but the years have made the People cynical," he said, with an experimental shift to press the side of his hip against hers. She allowed that too, despite her inner Dorian urging her to send him off. "Is it so unlikely to you that I am simply interested in you, _da'vin?" _he asked. Her blood ran cold and she turned to look up at him.

"_Da'vin..."_ she said slowly.

"Do you dislike it? I do not mean to further alienate you," he said conversationally.

"No, I don't mind. Do as you will," she said, trying to rebuild a veneer of dignity. Her hands shook and he grinned wickedly.

"That is an immense power you hand to me, _little storm,"_ he warned her. She snorted before she could stop herself, trying to hide it behind her hand. He was delighted by the reaction and perhaps meant to move forward with his thus far successful flirtation, but she stopped him.

"Do you think that we could work to modify the spell you have already used?" she asked. He backed off obediently but kept himself close to her- a gentle reminder that he would not forget the gains he had made. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, but filed it away for later.

"Perhaps- I have tried before, but usually in a vacuum. Your perspective would be welcome," he said absently. She inclined her head but stayed quiet for a moment.

"Why did you not remove Cha'cer's _vallaslin_ when you knew how to?" she asked. He laughed quietly.

"June perfected his abhorrent tools before I met her- and even if I had known, I am not confident she would have accepted my offer to remove them. She has viewed them as symbolic for a very long time, and even if she had not, she may have spurned my help on principle. She detests being put into a debt against her will," he explained.

"Do you... hate her _vallaslin?"_ she asked haltingly. She had never gotten the opportunity to ask Solas if he had removed her tattoos because they had disgusted him. He had been passionate about the truth behind them, even as she had hesitated. What if she had told them that she wanted to keep them, to reclaim them?

"I hate the intent behind them, and I hate that a woman I respect as much as I do her- and anyone for that matter- is marked as she is, against her will and as property of another," he said firmly.

"But the marks themselves. They don't... bother you?" He looked down at her curiously.

"You ask me if the marks themselves make me hate her face, which makes me wonder about this 'Solas' of yours," he said slowly. She huffed quietly. "I do not hate her face for her marks. I hate the marks for being a choice she did not make, and for their unwelcome existence- because however she felt about them before, she wants them gone now. Did he dislike your face when you possessed _vallaslin?"_ His question was not intended to hurt her but it did. A little.

"I... don't know. We grew apart after he removed them and I didn't feel comfortable asking," she admitted.

"I doubt anyone with eyes could dislike a face such as yours," he said slyly. She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. "Did you willingly undergo the process of accepting the _vallaslin_?" he asked. She gnawed her lip.

"Yes and no. I knew the marks were meant to dedicate me to June, and I willingly underwent the procedure, but I didn't understand it. I... I thought of them as marks to make me belong and to encourage me. I didn't even _know_ about the history of slavery behind them- _Dread Wolf's cock _when I found out I..." she froze as he stared at her, his eyebrows pulled in surprise. "I just used your…. I just… swore by your... I'm... sorry?"

"Oh no, by all means," he said with a slightly astonished guffaw. "My cock is flattered. Do go on."

She rubbed the back of her neck. "N-No, there isn't much more. I only... felt silly, when I found out. I raged, I shouted at him. I thought he was telling me to rub it in my face, that I was wrong and had been the whole time," she mumbled. "He never... he didn't laugh at me when I started crying. That was important to me, that he didn't seem to think less of my reaction. I only worry sometimes that he told me because he couldn't stand to look at me."

"I am glad he was so understanding. It saves me the trouble of hunting him down," he said with an easy smile. She had trouble believing he was the god of rebellion when he played the fool like that.

"You couldn't find him," she said, remembering how he had wanted to do so. "He's… not here, anymore. It's difficult to explain but it isn't any deficiency on your part-" _It's only that you find him when you look in the mirror every morning and you do not know the spell yet._

"I… realize that when I told Cha'cer we would track him down, I may have been overzealous. It would be a waste of time to try and hunt a man who does not want to be found and we do not have the resources to spare. It will work just as well to try and modify the spell I've already used," he said firmly. She exhaled, relieved. "You do not wish to track him down personally? I imagine you would have more use for him to demand answers than we would," he asked curiously.

"I don't need to. He played a role in my life then made it clear his part in it was over. I won't drag him back to demand answers he never wanted to give me anyway." She spoke too sharply, forgetting for a moment that Solas and Fen'Harel were the same person.

He offered her his hand and she narrowed her eyes. She grew tired of his play-flirting because even if she went through with it- if they fucked, if they fell in love- it would end the same. Solas would leave her in the future, standing in Crestwood and hating herself for nothing. _It was a test, _she remembered thinking, _he was testing me to see if I would believe anything he said and I did._ "It is a handshake, Saevin, do they not shake hands where you're from?" he asked dryly.

"No," she snapped, but it made him laugh.

"We will be partners, Saevin, and we will find a way to wipe June's mark from the faces of elves everywhere," he said, offering his palm again. She took it and he shook it. "And in the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that I speak the Common of the _durgen'len _as well as Cha'cer does." She nearly swallowed her tongue, which made him grin. "Surely you did not think I came to be the god of rebellion without being able to speak the slave-tongue?" he asked.

In retrospect it had been a very stupid thing to believe and her ears grew hot under his gaze. "Why are you telling me now?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Full disclosure, as I said. It would not do to begin our new relationship on a foundation of lies," he said, shrugging carelessly. "It would be a burden on me anyway, to have to keep pretending that Cha'cer was not mistranslating what I said- so our new partnership is a clean slate. Only the truth to demonstrate my utmost respect for you," he said earnestly.

The irony was almost unbearable.

. . . . .

Sera sat down heavily next to Bull, scowling. "Oi, Tiny. Got a question for ya," she said sharply. He looked down at her from where he had been concentrating on the tiny strips of nug bacon- every week Fen'Harel had a new delicacy, something different to lift the dullness of rations. One week it would be strawberries (more akin to blueberries in the Bull's wide palms), the next it would be tiny strips of bacon off the tiniest animals known to man. "When you and Sparkles started joustin', was it… weird?" she asked.

Bull stared at her for a solid minute. "Uh, not sure what sort of information you want from me there, Sera," he said, stuffing bacon into his mouth. He wondered if his obviously non-elven appetite was putting a strain on the kitchens.

"No I mean like, you two used to fight a lot, like about Tevinter and Vints and Qunari and oxmen and shit. Was it like, weird when you kind of decided not to fight about it anymore?" she asked. He snorted.

"We still argue about it a little but you can disagree with someone and not want to fire an arrow in their face, you know. And we didn't argue a _lot_, we're just two big, loud guys who saw the world in two different ways. It was a pissin' contest," he said with a shrug. Sera snorted loudly and blew a raspberry.

"Did you tell him that? Because I believe his exact words were _ugh,"_ she said. Bull rolled his eyes.

"Of course they were. I was a Ben'Hassrath Qunari who wasn't bothering to get to know him before flexing, and he was a fancy Vint mage who wasn't bothering to get to know me because I was too busy flexing. Why are you askin' anyway?" he asked. Sera scowled.

"It's the fuckin'... Cha'cer, yeah? So we were arguing, then we weren't, and she starts laughin' and it's nice! But it ain't supposed to be nice she's a fuckin' _elf_ and she's up at the _big _table with all the important idiots. And then we just stop fighting and everything gets all weird and she shuffles me out of the room!" she said helplessly. Bull raised an eyebrow.

"So… what. You like her, or…?"

"I don't fuckin' know that's what I'm askin' you!" she snapped.

"How would me and Dorian have any bearing on you and the weird old elf?" he asked flatly. It wasn't a good idea anyway, whether or not both sides were into each other and willing. True, the general wouldn't knock Sera up with a paradox baby, but it could still fuck up empires. He'd thought Sera was the _last _person he'd have to worry about doing that (a list that _started _with Sae).

"Because it's like same thing innit? I don't like elves and I don't like nobles but she's both and she was talkin' about pissin' with nobility but she's got her stupid rebellion with her idiot Wolf-Boy and…" Sera shook her head and stood up. "S'all makin' my head ache. You find where they store the good shit yet?" she asked.

"It's a dry camp in theory, but the soldiers have some fruity fermented shit- kicks harder than wine and doesn't taste like booze at all," he said, gesturing vaguely towards the soldiers. "Tell 'em I sent you and they might even let you have some."

"Yeah thanks," she said, leaving just as Dorian appeared. The mage looked better than he had in the past few days- less like he'd been trying to tear out his hair and more like he'd murdered something violently with fire.

"You went to fight without me," Bull said without preamble. Dorian tensed up, then murmured a quick and quiet _kaffas._

"That obvious am I?" he asked, sitting down and snatching some food from the platters. He was holding a book but it wasn't a weight that he carried anymore. He was healthier having let go of some of his magic.

"Don't get me wrong, 'murder' is a _great _look for you _kadan. _I'm just wondering how smart it is to take off with an army without one of us there to back you up," he said firmly. Dorian shrugged which was mildly irritating- he was pretending that he wasn't listening.

"Sera wouldn't go within fifty feet of the general and Fen'Harel keeps Saevin up here like a princess in a castle," he said flippantly.

"And me?"

"I don't need you for _everything _Bull, and it was a rogue raid anyway. You make more noise than the Red Hart and they were fighting with magic," he said glibly.

"And what if you'd died, _kadan, _what then?" he snapped, his voice rougher than he'd meant for it to be. The mage was being an idiot to try and mark his territory, to prove that no matter the _nature _of his relationship with the Bull, he was still his own man. Bull had _thought _that he was doing his part to assure Dorian that no matter what happened behind closed doors (or sometimes open doors- made it more fun) that the mage _was _completely autonomous, but Bull's help was still spurned. He tried to be patient and he could be patient for an astonishingly long time, but that didn't make it all right for Dorian to throw himself at some fucking magic elf shit.

"I _didn't, _though, and that's the wonderful part about me- I don't purposely hurl myself into danger for giggles and shockingly enough, I _have _been in a few scuffles before. Perhaps you remember the one fellow, what was his name?"

"I get it, Dorian."

"Cory… Corypiper, Corysyphillis..."

"Corypheus."

"Ah _yes, _that was his name! So glad you've heard of him. Well, I was rather instrumental in taking him down you know. A proud moment, certainly, and that wasn't even the _first _time I raised my magic in battle! I travelled with this one woman-"

"Dorian, _I get it,"_ he snapped finally. "I'm not doubting your ability to defend yourself, I'm telling you that the enemy is unknown and their limits are untested. Everyone is a fucking mage here and worse, they're using magic that we don't understand. I'm not trying to be overbearing, I'm trying to be concerned about whether you live or die."

Dorian fell silent for a moment, then offered, "The next time I go out I'll tell you that I'm going." It wasn't much, but it was definitely something and any small steps towards a healthier relationship sort of made Bull's stomach all fuzzy- like hot mead or something. "Have you found anything useful around here?" Dorian was obviously trying to change the subject, and with his small victory the Bull didn't raise a fuss.

"Found out that Solas was in the pantheon for a while- attended the meetings, had temples, all that shit- after he stole his magic god shit from the one… Ghilas… Ghlinar…"

"I know who you mean," he said, waving his hand then reaching out for a glass of water. He'd been drinking less since getting together with Bull- they both had slowed down considerably, expressing discomfort that their entire relationship would be composed of getting hammered and fucking. When they had decided to get serious, they had both promised each other to lay off the drinks. The first month had been hell, but the Chargers stood with their chief and it had gotten easier, eventually. Dorian had fared worse but true to form, locked Bull out of most of it.

"Well he did the song and dance but he pissed off the big one, the… sun guy." He waited for Dorian to nod thoughtfully before continuing. "He freed some slaves but it didn't go as smoothly as his other skirmishes had gone and he got caught. Suddenly a couple decades of unexplained slave rebellions and a sudden drop in the market were all explained- Fen'Harel had been funnelling information and working with the general to fuck up the trade. So the sun guy gets pissed off and Mythal, the one with the Temple? She defends Fen'Harel, like she always had, because he was 'pure of heart' or whatever the elves use to judge shit."

"She was murdered though," Dorian said, looking disdainfully at the nug bacon.

"If you quit eating meat your body is gunna go into shock," Bull scolded.

"I'll eat peanuts. Keep telling me about what we're facing here."

"Fine. So one day sun guy visits the Temple of Mythal, and finds his wife- because I guess they were married- gutted in the yard. And he thinks it's Fen'Harel, that he murdered her, but he hadn't. It was obvious he hadn't, and it woulda been stupid for him to kill his only saving grace. So Fen'Harel gets booted from the pantheon and starts his rebellion. He's only openly at war with sun guy, the hunter woman, and Ghilhalla…"

"Ghilan'nain," Dorian said, eating like he hadn't done so in years. It was reassuring to see the spark return to Sparkles.

"Yeah, her. The rest sort of just ignore him. Have you made any progress on the spell to send us home?" he asked, trying to hide how anxious he was. This time shit was doing his head in, and once the boss had told him that he had to pretend to be a really big, disfigured elf? He'd pretended to be a lot of things in his time with the Ben'Hassrath, but _elf _was never one of them.

"I have to start looking into Fen'Harel's orb, but I don't imagine it'll be easy. Frankly it's a toss up between flat out asking him about it and risking being considered a spy, or trying to find some obscure texts that I'm pretty sure he wouldn't just leave _lying _around," he said with a frown. "Either way it'll be risky, but it has to have something to do with the source of the magic."

"Uh… that means a long time, then?" he asked uncomfortably.

"Yes, but don't worry Bull. I'll be here to beat back those terrifying elves you hang around with all day," Dorian said with his stupid pretty smile. Bull rolled his eyes.

"We should probably team up to tie Sera and the boss to a pole or something instead. They're both getting a bit… comfier than they should," he said. Dorian's face grew dark.

"Saevin I sort of expected, but Sera?" he asked. Bull nodded solemnly and looked meaningfully towards the general who had just sat down to eat. Dorian's frown turned to shock, then more irritation. "They have to realize that we can't take them home, don't they?" he asked. Bull shrugged.

"I don't know what Sera's up to, but the boss? Shit, I don't know. If I ran into an ancient version of you I'm not sure I'd be able to keep my hands off either," he said with a flirty grin. The mage had only just shaken the frazzled look off, and Bull would be damned to see it return so soon.

Dorian snorted and mumbled something in Tevene that sounded like _bastard._

. . . . .

Sera was dreaming of Skyhold and its halls teeming with humans when she felt a hand press against her mouth. She jolted awake and made to scream- she wasn't one of those fancy rogues that would wait for an opening with three people beside her to jump up and _throttle _whoever dared put their fuckin' hands on her- but went quiet.

The general was leaning over her with her opposite hand pressed against her own lips in a gesture for silence. "You talk big about helping the little guys and spittin' on the nobles- I get it. You don't wanna be a rebel, you wanna raise hell." Sera nodded. "Then let's go raise hell," she said, standing up and walking out of the room.

The blonde scrambled after her, grabbing her bow and armour as more of an afterthought than anything else.

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not really feeling the garden bit but im so full of spite and malice rn so I decided to publish it because I dont actually hate it so. Here we are. like im so mad rn lmao university can fuckin meet me in the pit. so elves kissin to soothe my harried soul.

also just casually rewriting adoribull to make it a little bit less icky. bc like I get the intent behind "they both got splashed and woke up with each other" and like I get that it's a convention but it still seemed a little ick to me so. taa daaaaaa.


	7. Chapter 7

Uh just b4 the chapter starts this one is bit more graphic than the rest so if u were reading this to ur boss i would avoid it just this once.

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Elven bathhouses were a mild nightmare, but as horrific as Saevin found them, they were also incredibly pretty. What would serve as Skyhold's spacious Chantry- a part of the Keep that Lavellan rarely visited, to the chagrin of her advisors- was done up in the same sparkling silver granite that was polished until it shone. The lights were cast by glowing gilded yellow orbs that hovered playfully in the air and seemed to intuitively know where they were required- their light made the clear, steaming water look like molten gold that reflected off the blooming white lilies that surrounded it (courtesy of a few wistful soldiers that longed for the wildernesses of their youth, now trapped in_ Tarasyl'an Te'las). _

It was a communal bath, though in the interest of the shy and the young it could be privately used if proper notice was given. As in all things, however, the Dread Wolf wished to remain accessible to the public and Cha'cer wished to ensure that no assassins took advantage of the flood of opportunities that he provided them with to kill him. He had told Saevin in a very firm tone that she was welcome to set a separate time to bathe if it made her uncomfortable (heavily hinting at a past life as a slave that she didn't actually have) but she turned down the offer politely.

She was weak and the Dalish had never taught her proper Andrastian shame.

This was, however, the first time he had deigned to join them- he was a busy man who had always seemed to prefer to work until he was drooping, then bathe before he went to sleep. His days now, however, were filled with research, and he didn't feel it worth continuing if Saevin wasn't there to help him. Therefore, when she left to go join Cha'cer and her Fangs (her squad's nickname, as Fen'Harel himself rarely took the field unless it was a full battle, but they remained the Dread Wolf's Fangs), Fen'Harel followed.

It wasn't until they had actually entered the room that Saevin became electrically aware of the fact that everyone was just wearing robes- thin white robes that hid very little, and even less among Cha'cer squad who tugged at ties and often forewent the fabric altogether. Sera seemed fine, if a little… distracted. She was staring at the open ceiling that revealed the silver stars spilling across the black sky. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, m'fine. Just… don't wanna look at anyone is all," she said tightly, and her eyes betrayed her by flashing to Cha'cer.

"Sera?" she asked teasingly.

"Shut up! Shut up I don't even know what I'm thinkin' so don't even ask," she snapped, moving ahead of her to shove her backwards. Sae laughed, but the sound caught in her throat when she felt herself collide with a tall, solid form behind her.

_"_Careful_, da'vin," _Fen'Harel said, straightening her up with a hand at her waist. Her throat went dry and she flushed red when Sera started laughing. He moved on ahead of her and she was stricken again by how tall and broad he was for an elven man. Even now, when elves were generally the same size, he had more… presence, perhaps was the word.

More shoulder width.

More leg length.

Stronger thighs.

A round, firm ass.

_Creators I am going directly to the Void, _she thought in mild horror. His white robe was tied across his waist but not his torso, giving her an eyeful of back and upper arm muscles from rigorous staff work. He was soft though- she knew that from experience, that as unyielding as he looked and no matter how many scars tore down his back like claws, he was warm and pliant under her hands. He liked back and neck rubs and warm baths.

Well. Solas did, at least. This Dread Wolf seemed to like Cha'cer and food.

Guilt ate at her suddenly, horrendous guilt. _Yes, _it was Solas (right down to the dark birthmark on his… hip… well, visible _from _his hip at least) but it didn't seem fair to either versions of the man to be ogling. _Solas _was the man she'd fallen in love with, however ill advised and admittedly despite his warnings, and Fen'Harel didn't know anything about her. Every conversation they had started on a base of lies- every time they spoke she was lying.

It wasn't fair to him to try and… do anything, without being honest. It wasn't fair to Solas to try something with his younger self, even with his deceit and his painfully clear rejection of her, simply because she missed him.

He dropped his robe as he slid into the water and Saevin looked pointedly away. "You comin'?" Sera asked with a grin. Saevin narrowed her eyes but followed her friend, jerkily throwing her robe to the ground and getting in on the few short steps across from where he sat. Sera rolled her eyes and made a face, but Sae noticed she avoided looking anywhere in particular. The room burbled with conversation from the squad and a few odd elves, but no one paid anyone else any particular mind- politeness, perhaps, though not a particularly elven trait.

It was different, like this- it was different when she missed Solas so badly that she could avoid Fen'Harel's eyes and pretend, if she wanted to- if he wanted to, and wasn't just playing or spying. The Dalish didn't have the same rigorous structural modesty- in a culture where popping out elf babies was a _goal, _there was little room for shame. Children's activities were communal, teenagers were watched carefully for irresponsibility, and young adults were simply used to each other. They didn't have the _shem _luxury of long courtships and the intricate maintenance of proprietary. Sera had told her that the city was pretty much the same- people married young, to arranged spouses, because _family _was vital (of course Sera had framed it much differently and with a few vulgar gestures). In a place where you could live or die by a copper, modesty was a hastily drawn facade to please nosy Chantry Mothers who impressed their _shem _Andrastianism on perfectly loyal _elven _Andrastians.

It wasn't usually so… jarring to be naked in a non-sexual setting, but it was always different when the nudity had a vaguely carnal potential. It had been the same when she was a teenager dealing with her burgeoning sexuality- nudity had alarmed her because _what if everyone saw?_ She hadn't felt like that in a very long time.

She shook her head and dunked it underwater to get her hair wet. It stuck to her skull and she shook it out with a sigh, rubbing her eyes. They'd been reading all day, fighting about translations and trying to wrestle books out of each others' hands. She'd been pretty sure Fen'Harel was going to set Dorian on fire by the end of it, which was why she had hastily called the end of their session.

She looked up curiously- just to see him, quickly, his chest above the water and a completely innocent glance- and found him poised every so slightly above the water line, reaching for a tray with some cheeses on it. "Ya know your tits blush too?" Sera asked loudly and Sae covered her face.

"I know."

. . . . .

Sera's shouting about Sniper's breasts caught Cha'cer attention from across the room- Fen's too, but that was hardly a surprise (the only thing that could equal that man's love for ass was his love for breasts of all shapes and sizes). While the blonde busied herself with tormenting Snoopy, the general took a moment to gather the details.

Her breasts were fuller and larger than they looked when she had clothes on- probably bound them down to keep them out of the way, especially considering her archery- and she had a sprinkling of cinnamon freckles across her torso. She didn't seem overly daunted by the nudity, which ruled out Cha'cer's theory that she may have been working for the quick-blooded human clans that had begun to rise dangerously close to the cities instead of staying in their nomadic pods.

It made it harder to guess her angle- _and that imagery wasn't making it any easier to focus- _and her breasts certainly made it harder to try and guess things. Beside her, Fen seemed to be studiously ignoring Saevin- a shame, because the mage was turning redder and redder every time Sera opened her mouth and it was _hilarious. _"Why don't you go talk to her instead of frowning from across the room?" he suggested suddenly.

"You aren't doing much either," Cha'cer pointed out sullenly. Fen snorted.

"I'm not particularly attached to her." That was at least one quarter lie, and she could tell by the way his eyes flickered over against his will.

"You can think she's cute without admitting defeat," she said snidely, which earned her a sharp slap upside the head that sent a thin spray of straight black hair flopping over her face. "Oh fuck you, you're trying to tell me you're not even a _little _attracted to her? If she begged to ride you you'd just lie back and think of Arlathan?" she asked.

"Being good-looking does not increase her trustworthiness," he said flatly.

"I didn't say it did, I said you've got a hard on for her stupid freckle-y body and are sitting squarely in denial," she said, reaching out to rub his neck. He sighed, leaning back and looking at her with a pensive frown.

"What about Sera?" he asked. She shrugged in what she hoped was a casual manner.

"What about her? Great body, _and _a great shot. I c-could give it a go," she said, her voice only tripping once. It wasn't a lie- she _would _have sex with Sera, but the process of accepting a proposition would probably be a lot more awkward. They didn't seem to be able to be around each other for longer than forty minutes without falling into a thick silence.

Their excursion to a local town had been a wild success. There had been no slaves to free, but rather a snotty noble that needed to be reminded that the Dread Wolf was a kind god who let him live in exchange for _loyalty. _Sera'd been chock-full of ideas, whispered as they snuck across the winding courtyard and into a window foolishly left ajar. _Smalls thrown to the wind, filthy love letters, a collar not made for a dog…_

They had settled for Cha'cer very directly delivering her warning while Sera snooped through his desk a room over for incriminating papers. Neither rogue had seen the foolishness of this assignment- Sera couldn't _read _ancient elven- so they had ended up making off with every paper and receipt that had scattered his desk for the past six months. They had _bolted _back to the Keep laughing as Cha'cer read out what they had gathered- did one man really need so much lube? So many feathers?

It had been fun but by the time they'd reached the Keep the laughter had faded and Sera all but threw the papers at Cha'cer before ducking into her own room. It had been an… unexpected ending to the evening. "If you wanted her I am certain you could be… persuasive," he said with a grin. Cha'cer laughed quietly.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Of course. You and I have engaged with other women on several occasions and you have never failed to delight," he said encouragingly. "Sera does not appear to be overly preoccupied with proper courtship rituals, or at all in truth."

"No shit," Cha'cer muttered. "Maybe I will. I could. I'm great, what's not to like?" she asked, as if it were a true question. He laughed.

"You are charming and beautiful and and a fierce fighter. It would be madness not to bed you should the option present itself," he told her firmly. Cha'cer nodded and released his head so it dunked underwater. He spluttered and sat up as Cha'cer stood and walked over.

. . . . .

Saevin noticed Cha'cer first, the elf making her way over through the water looking lovely in the lighting and confident to the point of smugness. "Scat, Sandwich, Fen wants to see you," she said, jerking her thumb over at the Dread Wolf. He was coughing as if he'd taken in water and her stomach dropped.

"What does he want?" she asked, trying to stand as fluidly as Cha'cer was. Her back was straight and her hair was silky black even in the yellow glow of the lighting. Her pale skin soaked in the colour of the room and she looked...

Saevin tried to imitate her but immediately failed. She couldn't master the casual way that Cha'cer stood, immediately flushed to the tips of her nipples that seemed oddly _on display _the instant they came above water line. The confident jerk of Cha'cer's hips were lost on her and she cast another nervous glance over at the Dread Wolf, who watched his soul-twin with a grin.

Saevin would never be the centre of a room unless she was shouting at an ancient blighted magister, and it never made her feel good to try otherwise.

"I don't fucking know, go ask him," the rogue snapped, approaching Sera. Sae sighed and slowly turned towards the Dread Wolf, determined to approach him as slowly as possible- she may not have had the sex appeal of Cha'cer, but that didn't mean she would jump at him whenever he summoned her.

. . . . .

The water rippled around Saevin as she approached, looking downright bored as she settled herself beside him. He grinned, stretching out his arm to casually place on the wall behind her- not quite around her but with the implication of proximity. "Cha'cer banish you while she tries to seduce your friend?" he asked pleasantly. He didn't expect her to jolt _or _stand up like she did.

"She's trying to _what?"_ she demanded angrily.

"Flirt with Sera, from what she told me," he reported. The mage's ears flattened and she glared in the general's direction, but she sat back down without too much fussing. She was marginally closer to him than she had been before standing, but if she noticed she said nothing- he, certainly, was not complaining.

"She told me that you were asking for me," she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. He laughed quietly, watching Cha'cer settle down next to the blonde rogue with a look of mild panic crossing her face. He looked away- whatever happened would certainly happen- and down at Sae.

"I was not, but I will not pretend I dislike the company," he said. She tittered nervously, clearing her throat, and he worried for a moment that it was _his _presence that was unwelcome. "Unless of course, you prefer that I go?" he offered. He didn't know the circumstances of Saevin's life before she had landed in _Tarasyl'an Te'las_, and too easily forgot to take care.

"No!" she insisted, a little too quickly for her to try and play casual. "No, _ha-_ Fen'Harel, you're fine where you are." His serious face turned to a grin, but didn't antagonize her by moving closer.

"I am glad to hear it," he said simply. She averted her eyes and tried to swallow a smile before he noticed it, and silence fell between them.

He didn't know what to talk about.

It became more and more of a problem as time stretched on, the silence growing thicker and thicker. He wouldn't bring up their research- it made his head hurt to even think of it in truth- since the way she spoke made it sound as if she had been an outsider of elven culture for a very long time. _Politics _was a topic to avoid as well, as she seemed to know little beyond the fact that there were gods and slaves and nobility and he didn't wish to preach to her.

_What do you talk about with Cha'cer?_ He looked anxiously at the woman who seemed to be listening eagerly to Sera talk. _Food, slavery, weapons, sex, other people… _they talked about whatever they talked about, but nothing seemed to suit Saevin.

"Tell me about yourself," he burst. It was a reasonable topic- he knew very little about her besides the fact that her and her friend tended towards incredibly irresponsible magical experimentation and she apparently lived out in the woods.

She tensed up, gnawing her lip for a moment. "Uhm," she started gracefully, rubbing the back of her neck. "I… I'm from… the woods, I guess. I mean, I was born to a nomadic clan-"

_"Shemlen?" _he asked in surprise. She wrinkled her nose.

"Of course not. Elves. We just… we didn't feel comfortable in the cities. We had no _eluvian _to connect us to any other… town or… clan or whatever. We just wandered, lived our lives. When I was twenty-one I left and haven't been back since. I think they've settled down in a proper town, though I couldn't tell you its name," she said, shrugging. "They never quite liked me anyway, so no great loss."

"Are you a hunter then?" he asked. She shook her head and laughed softly.

"No, I couldn't… kill anything. I did a lot of things around the camp- cooking, cleaning, midwifery, forging, child-minding- but hunting I could never do," she admitted. "Killing _shem _was easy, though, bandits and the like. Don't have the heart to kill a deer."

"I am sure they were grateful for it," he laughed. "How long have you been wandering on your own?" he asked. She frowned and looked up at the sky, counting in her head.

"Uh… a three years? Four? Not sure of the date I left and its been almost constant chaos since then, so I don't really have a solid grasp on it," she said with a shrug. He snorted.

"That is not so very long, yet you speak as if you have been on your own forever. How old are you?" he asked. He didn't expect her to go so still or to look up at him so nervously.

"How old are _you?" _she asked defensively. He smiled at her and leaned down until the tips of their noses were touching, pleased at the heavy-lidded way she looked at him then.

"If I tell you, _da'vin, _you mustn't breathe a word," he said quietly. She swallowed and nodded, her hands moving awkwardly as if she didn't know what to do with them. At that very moment, he could have offered a few suggestions- a strange thought, considering that he had only started this silly game to spy on her, which was no longer necessary. Nonetheless, he leaned over to brush his cheek against hers and with his mouth by her ear he told her, "Five hundred."

_"What?" _she gasped, pulling back. He laughed, moving back to his own space.

"It is unfortunately true. My adversaries balk at the nerve of me- not even a millenium old and yet I seek to shake the foundation of a society that witnessed the very birth of time." He was being dramatic but she usually laughed at his hyperboles- now she merely sat in shocked silence, her mouth moving gently as if she were counting. "How old are you?" he asked again, hesitantly. That seemed to jolt her out of the mild trance she'd slipped into.

"U-Uhm. T-Three… four? Hundred?" she asked. He raised an eyebrow. "I-I'm sorry, I lost count. Out in the woods we don't really… mark name days. The last one I even celebrated had to have been my t-two hundredth," she said, laughing in a mildly hysterical manner.

"You are a poor liar, Saevin, and I do not understand why you bother," he teased. She went red again and it was almost impossible to avoid watching the way it crawled down her small breasts. Cha'cer's bust was similarly flat, but Saevin's possessed a curve up to her dusky nipples that Cha'cer did not have (though whatever she lacked in breast fat she made up for in _muscle). _He pretended to be looking at her shoulders, which was only partially believable.

"It's rude to accuse people of lying. Why would I lie about how old I am?" she asked defensively. He held up his hands.

"Peace, _da'vin, _I will not argue with you. If you say you are three or four hundred then who am I to contradict you?" he asked. _A man with eyes and more than half of my brain cells functional, _he thought, but didn't bother to voice the jest. She seemed absurdly upset, though he wasn't sure if she was still counting or irritated that he had accused her of lying.

"I'm _not _lying," she insisted. He inclined his head to agree and she sat back, fidgeting like a child at a prayer service. "In... around three thousand years, you'll be… almost three thousand five hundred," she said, biting her lip.

"Assuming the pantheon does not catch me before my ritual is complete, yes. That is an oddly specific number of years," he said, remembering suddenly her companions speaking of the future. Before, he had considered it a front to distract him from their real intentions; now, it seemed, the story was nonsensical. Saevin merely shrugged.

"You look handsome," she blurted, lifting her chin but averting her gaze.

"I… look handsome?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. She was trying to distract him but if she thought he was so foolish as to blindly take her bait…

"You do. The lighting flatters your complexion a-and you have… a very nice face," she said quickly, still not looking at him. He frowned.

"What does that have to do with three thousand years added to my lifespan?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Nothing. I'm sure you'd still be just as pleasing to look at," she said, flashing her eyes towards him briefly. His lips curled into a soundless snarl- she was determined to sidetrack him.

He took her jaw in his hand and turned her towards him, finally shifting himself closer to her. He leaned in but didn't kiss her, just hovering over her mouth like a promise. _"You _are pleasing to look at. _All _of you," he said, his opposite hand reaching for her hip. She exhaled in a grunt, not resisting his touch but neither moving into it. It was _infuriating-_ he couldn't understand her. "You are doing my head in, _little storm,"_ he growled.

"Preemptive revenge," she murmured back.

"What does that _mean?" _he demanded, taking care to keep his hands gentle and loose. If she wanted to pull away he wouldn't refuse her the distance, no matter how irritating she became.

"Nothing," she said, taking her head back. She didn't put any distance between them, simply moving his hand so he wasn't touching her jaw. "Now if you're quite done, I think I'm tired."

"I could accompany you to bed," he offered, feeling reckless in his frustration. She was clever but there was something in her that was weak for him- he didn't flatter himself to suppose it was his natural charm, but he'd noticed her looking at him more often than she thought he did. He wondered about the man who had left her misfit clan, who supposedly looked like him. Perhaps if they slept together he'd receive better answers.

"No," she replied shortly, and took her leave.

. . . . .

Once Scaffolding had wandered off to go bother Fen, Cha'cer made her move towards Sera. The rogue took one look at her and grinned, averting her eyes but biting her tongue. Her approval was very clear and it helped to soothe Cha'cer's nerves. _No, no nerves. Not now. Fen was right, I've done this before a thousand times. It's been a while since I've done it alone but… no nerves._

The blonde looked _incredible_, which the general supposed made flirting with her easier. Her short choppy blonde hair was dark with water, the colour of caramel and positively _glistened_ in the light. Her wide lips were well-bitten and pink from abuse, and she couldn't seem to resist casting glances at Cha'cer with her round earth-brown eyes. Little water droplets trickled from the frayed ends of her hair down onto her chest, rolling down to drip off her rosy pink nipples...

She jerked her eyes back up to Sera's smug face and settled down next to the girl who not-so-subtly shifted closer. Cha'cer cast her a flirty grin and opened her mouth. "Your tits are bigger than they look," she blurted. Sera looked surprised for a moment and Cha'cer could have _drowned _herself. She had _no idea _why that had come out- she'd meant to say something like _your skin looks like porcelain _or _your hair is like spun gold. _

Sera burst out laughing, so hard that she snorted and clutched her stomach. "Yeah and yer tits are just as itty bitty as they looked!" she said between guffaws. Cha'cer smiled nervously, not sure if Sera was laughing _with _her or _at _her. Either way, it wasn't the reaction she'd wanted.

It had been easier when Fen and her had begun to branch out into threesomes as sex with each other began to lose its excitement; together they had been a force to be reckoned with, finishing the flirtations right out of each other's mouths and _dazzling _the men and women they'd coaxed into bed. Nothing sealed a deal like a god with his hand down a woman's dress telling her that her skin was like a drug while Cha'cer moaned nonsense in between her legs, with her tongue swirling circles around her clit. _Nothing _made men fall into quivering ecstasy faster than Cha'cer sitting astride them and whispering filthy things in their ears while Fen'Harel thrusted into him from behind her, muffling his moans into her back.

"I've had no complaints about them either way," she said, trying to make up for her stumble and perhaps make her intentions obvious.

"Bet you haven't," Sera said, her voice dropping low. Silence dropped with it as Cha'cer nearly threw herself into a _panic _trying to think of something to say. Something non-sexual, maybe, to try and set a mood- it used to be the opening stages of Fen and her trying to catch someone's attention. Show interest- they refused to simply trick someone into sleeping with them, so often they found people who were willing and got to know them a little better.

"Y-You weren't… raised by elves, right?" she asked haltingly. She felt like Sera had mentioned it to her before, but it could always just be a little detail she'd picked up that she was confusing with a conversation. Even so, Sera often made reference to the elves around the Keep as if she herself were not one of them.

Immediately the rogue's shoulders dropped and she stared up at the general with something akin to anger. "Yeah, wha, like it matters?" she snapped. Cha'cer shook her head quickly, amazed at how every little thing she said seemed to ram her foot deeper and deeper into her own mouth. "Raised by some human noble woman and she was a bitch and I hated her. Tha's it," she said sternly.

"Of course." She let it drop gracefully, but found that another horrible silence had descended and now it was punctuated by Sera's discomfort. _When did it get so hard to flirt? _She tried to think of the last time that she'd had sex- she was pretty sure that it had been her and Fen with one of the messengers sent by a noble diplomat. Usually they avoided people like that but this messenger had come with a set of violet eyes so wide and sweet that they'd both agreed to be careful but do them anyway. The messenger had ended up quitting their job and joining the rebellion, and now served in the Fangs as a healer.

_How long ago had that been?_

"Who raised _you_?" Sera asked. Cha'cer suspected the question was meant to be a jab, but she answered anyway.

"I was born a slave to a breeding couple. They cared as much for me as they did for any brat they popped out when Ghilan'nain required a new plaything. My needs were attended to by indifference nursemaids until I was sufficiently old enough to care for myself, then I was shucked into the self-perservation role same as any other," she said simply. It was a raw wound but an old one.

"Shit," Sera muttered, which prompted a laugh out of the general.

"Shit," she agreed.

"So what, like, you got away though right? Rammed your fire up Ghillywhacker's ass and pissed off while she wanked about it?" she asked. Cha'cer felt herself cringe.

"Fen'Harel took me from slavery when he stole his Divinity. I've had very little choice in which way my life has taken, but I think I've made the best of wherever I found myself," she said with a savage grin. Sera returned it, seeming more confident when the mood was lighter. "What about you? How is it you don't have any magic in your blood?" she asked, casually leaning over. Sera grinned lazily, covering as much space as Cha'cer had, which put them _very close. _The general felt Sera's hand on her thigh, tracing lazy circles with her thumb.

"Just don't have none. Don't want any neither, I do just fine the way I am," she said in a low voice. Cha'cer pulse _pounded _and she wondered at how fluttery she was acting. _This is foreplay, teasing- try not to cum right out of the gate, _she scolded herself.

"Who taught you to use your bow?" Cha'cer returned, forcing herself to pretend like Sera's hand wasn't petting her- her fingers weren't anywhere _good _yet, but they were making feather-light promises against her thigh.

"Few people here n' there gimmie some tips so I didn't tear a chunk out my arm, but besides that… just me," she said in a teasing, sing-song voice. Cha'cer swallowed, filing that away for later- it made Sera _very _dangerous and was sort of suspicious on its own.

"That sort of talent must be a gift from Andruil herself," Cha'cer said with a smooth smile and a dry grin- as if Andruil would pull her head out of her ass long enough to bless anything. Cha'cer was finally getting a foothold in this, and resolved herself to return some of Sera's soft touches-

-and then the rogue pulled away from her altogether with a frown. "It ain't," she snapped. Cha'cer struggled to remember what she had said only seconds before. "It ain't a gift from _nobody _I did it myself _for _myself. I only took help so I wouldn't keep hurting myself on the shitty fucking bows I kept havin' to use."

"I believe you," she said gently, trying to coax Sera back towards her.

"I don't fuckin' care if you do or you don't quite frankly," she hissed, slouching solidly where she was. Cha'cer might have sworn if it wouldn't have given away her intent- instead, she moved over towards Sera, putting her hand just under her left breast and trying to angle her back to face her.

"I'm sorry if-" There was a loud splashing and her head jerked over to see Sandstorm pulling herself out of the baths and throwing a robe over herself. Fen looked _furious _and more than a little worked up, but didn't move to follow her.

Unfortunately, Sera did.

"Sera, I didn't mean-," she began, following after her and she moved towards the same edge that Scurvy had exited off of.

"Wha'ever, doesn't matter. Thanks for keepin' me company, General," she said in a disinterested voice, climbing out and shaking her hair so the spray jolted Fen. He was still scowling so darkly and holding so still that if he hadn't blinked she would have thought he didn't notice.

Sera stomped off and Cha'cer settled beside Fen'Harel, uncomfortably frustrated. _Where did it go wrong? _At Andruil obviously, but Sera was barefaced- it shouldn't have made a difference. The way Security talked about Sera and the _vallaslin _had left little possibility that Sera had ever possessed the tattoos either, so she couldn't have ever been in service to the Huntress…

She felt the phantom of Sera's fingers on her leg and groaned, flopping backwards hard enough to scrape her back on the granite. It didn't help. "That went _terribly,"_ she groaned. Fen nodded, staying very still but finally speaking.

"I was no more successful, though I was not strictly trying," he said. That was a lie if Cha'cer had ever heard one- even if Fen wasn't even particularly stuck on Shower, at this point it was a matter of pride.

"This is usually so much easier," she grunted, trying not to imagine how far the rogue's fingers might have travelled if she'd kept her idiot mouth shut.

"Usually we are working together," he reminded her.

"Are you suggesting a foursome?" Cha'cer asked.

"Are you willing to fuck Saevin?" he returned. The general's nose curled and Fen rolled his eyes. "In that case, no, I am not. Truthfully I doubt I would want to have sex with Sera anyway."

"Well, no one is going to be having sex with anyone tonight, are they?" Cha'cer snapped. Sera might have wound her tongue along the tip of her ear- after all, she was anatomically an elf even if she distanced herself from them. She would know it would harden Cha'cer nipples to pebbles so she could slide her tongue down her neck and across her chest to-

"We could always have sex," he suggested. He didn't reach out to her or shift himself towards her even in the slightest degree, simply staring forward and putting down the offer.

Cha'cer huffed and didn't answer, mildly unnerved by the fact that she didn't find the option in the least bit appealing.

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id be lying if i said i planned this but i dig it anywayyy ha. tbh im so into the idea that elven andrastianism and human andrastianism are like two really different things (but dont tell the shem bc theyll purge the alienage fuckin birds). so like elven women wearing high collared dresses so when the odd sister comes calling they arent scandalized but no one actually cares.

also how about elven genders that r super different from shem genders but no one says anything bc _dont want to get exalted marched. _anyway im gunna STOP talking about that bc otherwise i'll go on for like 72 hours about elves and do NOT doubt me i can. basically, i started talking about this bc i wanted to impress how not weird it would have been to be naked together assuming they didnt want to hop on each other ((also hardest part of writing this chapter how many different ways can ud escribe a nipple b4 u start consulting a thesaurus)). and also if ur wondering why bull and dorian werent here, it's because they r friends with sera and sae and probably didnt make a habit of bathing with them in their proper camps so. why start.

anyway there it is chapter like. 7. no one's getting any sex or any closer to solving any of their magic problems. thank u for all ur super sweet reviews if i ate paper i would print them all out and eat them.


	8. Chapter 8

He sat in the dimly lit room that had moss growing out of its walls and roots making the stone crumble. It wasn't structurally sound, not after all these years, but he didn't have _her _influence- the ability to turn a desiccated corpse into a thing of beauty, the way she'd taken the skeletal remains of Skyhold and made it warm and whole. She'd never take credit for it, but even her distracted remarks on the colour of a rug would set the construction team to work, whether she noticed or not.

There was a shuffling at the entryway to the shrine where he brooded, the mark of someone who did not have the news that he wanted to hear. There was a hideous pounding in his head as memories took shape that could have told him bad news without the effort of sending scouts- unfortunately, this was a new sensation for him. He knew nothing of the magic at work and he could not reach out to anyone in the Fade, so he relied on eyes and ears that were not his own.

The Dread Wolf gnashed at the reins, but he kept the beast in check- he'd had millenniums of practice and his temper was no longer kept so close to the surface of his skin. It didn't stop the claws from deforming his hands, or the snarl that tore at his lips.

"My lord?" He struggled to right his shoulders, to appear non-threatening. The news was bad and he preferred to receive it quickly. He inclined his head but did not turn around to face the scout he had sent to _Tara'sylan Tel'as_- Skyhold. "My lord, there's been no change. The Herald is still missing, as are her companions. They are investigating the scorch marks left by the spell but they had no information for us to steal." _That _had been expected. He would have smiled at the thought of Vivienne tearing at her extravagant horns trying to puzzle out the magic at work, if it was not for the fact that Saevin was still gone.

Saevin. The Iron Bull. Dorian. Sera. They had been in the training field, doing nothing of note otherwise there would have been more soldiers around- witnesses that would have been useful. At best, the four were fooling around- something had happened, and with a burst of green flames all four of them had disappeared with no more than a scorch left to mark them. Originally, they had been thought obliterated- _that _news he had not received well, and had almost brought down his own shrine around him. It was disturbing to realize just how much of his self-control he'd invested into her.

"Thank-you," he said simply. "I want a constant watch on the Keep for new information." It was worlds away from the tragic exercise of self-restraint he'd demonstrated when he'd left her, telling himself that it was for the best, that mortals were incredibly resilient and she would love again. The second there had been doubt expressed by the mages at Skyhold and the mages that he'd sent to confirm Saevin's death, telling him that the magic used had been suspicious and strange and there was a thrumming around the area that they had disappeared on that hearkened back to Redcliffe- all of his glorious self-sacrifice was forgotten.

That was also around the time that the headache had started. At first he'd barely noticed it, just a buzzing in the back of his head that made him think of _Tara'sylan Tel'as _as it had been. It wasn't so unusual for him to think about it- indeed hardly a day went by that he didn't think of Cha'cer- but as the headache grew worse he discovered with mild horror that his memories were being altered.

And then he had found Saevin.

All of them were there, but Saevin had stuck out to him- she always had, from the moment he'd seen the damp prison that the humans had thrown her into (he found _that _memory altering slightly too- instead of the mild panic and burgeoning hope that he'd felt when looking at her, he registered surprise because he hadn't thought to see her again, and for all her talk of the future there had been a part of him that had remained skeptical). Fen'Harel had been attracted to her, though too stubborn to admit it and frightened of the prospect of pursuing someone romantically other than Cha'cer for the first time in _years_. He had been _enraged _by her, by her cautious and tight-lipped nature and by how incredibly unimpressed she was by him (a child's error, though he supposed he could understand why her reaction had been as it was _now_).

He had been half-asleep, tormenting himself over leaving the Inquisition, when he had first seen her clearly. He'd been standing with her on the roof of the tallest tower- he had decided that he didn't want to frighten the soldiers, but had never taken _Saevin _into account- and she'd been staring at him in horror. _Fear._

He hadn't been able to sleep after that.

Logically he knew that her reaction to the Wolf was borne of surprise and very poor planning on Fen'Harel's part- his part. It was no reason to assume that she wouldn't love him anymore, that she would drive him away if he bared his foolish heart to her again, but it seemed a confirmation of his worst fears that had been gnawing at him since she had stood on her toes to kiss him in Fade-Haven. He tormented himself every moment since then- she kissed a man that she didn't know, that she would abhor under any other circumstances. _If she knew._

He had allowed himself weakness for a day, then set to try and figure out what was happening as more memories flooded him. She looked lovely in the low light of the garden, though as foolish as he had been he hadn't appreciated the view- in fact he could feel himself growing impatient with how disdainful she was, how she assumed he couldn't speak the Common (and how clever he'd thought he was, tricking her into speaking plainly around him- in the present he couldn't help but recall Josephine scolding Leliana for always resorting immediately to violence and subterfuge).

Despite his fervent searching, combing the Fade for a trace of her and sending his very best mages to try and glean _any _new information, he still hadn't gotten far. He had, however, discovered that if he meditated, the visions of the past would become clearer. If nothing else, it allowed him to reassure himself that she was all right (and once, that she was very much naked and his past self had been very much irritated that beyond pure skin-deep attraction, she seemed to have little interest in bedding him).

Meditation, he decided, was just what he needed- a moment to relax and check on her, and to punish himself with secondhand embarrassment on behalf of himself. He moved towards the bed he'd been using (no more than a cot, but functional) and settled down, shutting his eyes. He could see more clearly when his eyes were closed, and saw himself- Fen'Harel- pouting on an outcropping of rocks in the Fade.

So foul was his mood that the spirits avoided him altogether, aside from a few clumsy mischief orbs that circled around his feet. His brooding amused them and they irritated him. _Foolish, sulking child. If you despise her so then send her home to me, _he thought irritably. He had long since learned, however, that griping at his past self was about as effective as shouting at a book, so he tried to avoid it. It only served to make him angry.

Saevin's arrival was marked very clearly by the suddenly transformation of the troublesome spirits into nugs. Solas almost laughed- he wondered at the strange aura surrounding her that prompted spirits to change to the little rodents to somehow reflect her- but it died in his throat when Fen'Harel noticed her there.

Solas remembered very clearly that Fen'Harel was the only Dreamer, then. He hadn't yet taught his gift to anyone and at the time exploration of the Fade was uncommon to anyone not intricately tied to the pantheon. It was dangerous and it was forbidden as a realm that only the gods could traverse, which had been in part why the pantheon kept him so close when he revealed himself to them. They couldn't afford for it to get around that their forbidden world was as easily accessible as a dream.

That made Saevin stumbling into the corner of the Fade that he was haunting _dangerous. _He remembered telling her that anyone with the ability to dream could wander, and although it wasn't quite the same thing as proper Dreaming, Fen'Harel didn't know that. All he knew was that there was another unanswered question about this woman, on top of several more than he was receiving no answers or promises of answers for.

Solas felt his stomach drop into his feet when he remembered conjuring a blade.

It was thin and short, requiring no special talent to wield. He approached her and felt _incredulity _because she seemed unafraid of him. She was playing with one of the mischief nugs as if it were as natural as breathing and when she looked up at him she was grinning. "Hello," she greeted simply, straightening herself up.

He shoved her back against a hard, gnarled tree that sprouted out of the dead ground nearby and pressed the blade to her throat. She went pale but his hand was unwavering, his elbow locked as Cha'cer had taught him. The spirits scattered and dispersed and Solas felt his stomach heave. Saevin reached up to hold Fen'Harel's wrist, half out of shock, and he allowed it because he hardly believed himself capable of stumbling and cutting her. _Solas, _however, was painfully aware of the possibility. "This is the second time I have caught you with my magic, _elvhen'alas, _and this time I will not be put off so easily," he hissed.

"Solas, don't," she whispered, and he felt his gut roil. She was panicking and only saw his face, only saw _him _trying to kill her. He could have _strangled _the idiot boy who held himself so confidently, who pressed a knife against her throat to try and make himself less frightened of the possibility that she was stronger than him.

"You beg for mercy from the wrong man- tell me how you came to do this, to explore the Fade _heedless _of the danger?" he insisted. Saevin looked confused and frightened- why wouldn't she? She hardly knew of ancient elven bans on the Fade, and was being presented with a version of Solas who was frightened of the place at the same time he was possessive of it. Not even Cha'cer went to Fade with him, yet the mage had simply wandered in. _It is because we will teach her, get your knife away from her throat, _Solas thought, focusing his magic inward as hard as he could. He doubted that it would work- indeed if it were effective at all perhaps he'd already have Saevin safely back in her proper timeline- but maybe with a little prompting, his younger self could be convinced to be less of an ass. A magic ripple across time.

"I-I just… wanted to see, I wanted to-" she was panicking and couldn't properly answer. She could barely take in a breath, so fearful of the knife pressed against her throat. His magic wasn't getting through to either of them anymore than it had before, and he could no more contact his past self with his own magic than he could send a spirit back to tear them apart. Time worked strangely in the Fade, but not _that _strangely. If he knew how to contact himself in the past he would have done so long before that moment.

"Where did you learn to wander, to awake?" he asked angrily. "You will answer or your blood will spill." _Battle and death is not always the solution, pup. You preach it often enough to Cha'cer that you forget to examine yourself._

"Solas," she answered, her legs beginning to tremble. She struggled to hold herself up, obviously trying to keep even with the knife. "P-Please, Sol- Fen'Harel, please. Solas taught me how to move, but he's gone." In the present he shook his head, because Fen'Harel would not accept that answer any longer. He knew it as the anger rattled through his chest and he pressed the knife against her at a much more threatening angle.

"No more of him either, girl. You will not hide behind a man that may not even exist, for all your dodging around him," he insisted, his knuckles white with how hard he gripped his blade.

"He exists!" she cried, on her toes now to try and get away from the blade. "He exists, he's just… he's not in this timeline, _please,"_ she begged, her whole body shaking. Solas sighed, feeling her defeat in his throat. She had done a… semi-admirable job keeping the future _away _from Fen'Harel, and he wished he'd been more accommodating to her so it could have remained that way.

"You speak of the future again," he said haltingly. "Explain yourself." He felt the static of her lightning pressing against his arm, but her panic made it weak and unfocused.

"S-Solas… I'm going to meet Solas a-around two thousand years from now. Give or take," she said, still trying to withhold information. He found her dedication admirable but her timing poor- the Wolf was not to be trifled with as she could tease _him_.

"And your proof to back up this claim?" he demanded.

"I don't know what you want," she said, trying to focus her magic enough to hurt him.

"I either want the location of this man you are hiding behind or a permanent end to your tricks," he said. The dagger obviously provided the latter and Solas' heart took off.

"He's… I promise you, I-I won't meet him for t-two thousand years. He's you, though, h-he's the Dread Wolf," she stammered, biting her lip and raising her eyes to the sky. He frowned.

"Prove it," he said, though his grip of the knife became more gentle. She took a second to breathe, taking in sharp and shuddering gasps of air.

"You hate tea because it keeps you awake, but you'll still drink it when you need a clear head. Y-You… I'm not sure if this has happened yet, but you're a very good artist- you'll paint frescoes on the wall of the rotunda below the library, w-when the Keep is mine. They're lovely and have _lots _of wolves in them," she smiled at him but it did nothing to move him.

"You might have asked Cha'cer for the same information," he said quietly. Her smile dropped.

"Why would she tell me? Cha'cer hasn't said my name properly since I _got _here, why would she just divulge all this personal information to me?" she demanded.

"She has spoken with your friend, and I swear that if you have devised anything with that _seth'lin _that endangers Cha'cer, you will _long _for a blade across your throat," he said, his violence surging again. She yelped as he made a small, thin cut that welled with blood before he healed it. His hands were shaking.

"Sera isn't doing anything, I swear. _Listen, _just let me think. Y...You, when you sleep beside someone, you insist on being the big spoon- you told me, or you'll tell me that you've lived too long to turn your back on someone while you slept. You go to ruins to dream of old battles, and you leave out food for the giant spiders so they'll leave you be. You refuse to practice blood magic because it would muddy your connection to the Fade. Your magic is self-taught _please _I can't think of anything else." Solas wished in vain that he had divulged more personal information to her. It never seemed important- he learned through observation, so he knew much about her without requiring her input. It had never occurred to him that she did not do the same.

Fen'Harel was quiet, then removed the blade from her throat. She fell onto her knees, trembling so badly that she couldn't stay upright. He paced for a moment, restlessly- this was either an elaborate joke or an opportunity. "Do I succeed?" he snapped. She raised her head weakly. "With my ritual, locking the gods away. Does it work?" he demanded.

"I don't know," she murmured.

"Your Solas never told you?" he asked angrily.

_"My _Solas didn't even tell me his real _fucking _name. I didn't even know the two of you were the same man until… until the day with the box, Cha'cer's make-up box," she explained. "You have it in the future as well, and you told me that you made it."

"Where is Cha'cer, why is she not with me?" he asked, his voice rising.

"I don't know that either! You never told me anything that could tie you back to Fen'Harel. For all I know she _was _with you," she said, trying to steady herself. Solas wanted to be there so badly that he clenched his fist to try and stay focused- he could help her, right her, let her lean on him for all the times he'd all but carried him through his own disaster…

"Well my question stands- he need not have told you for you to know whether the elven gods still walk the land," he snapped. She sighed and sat back, looking up at him wearily. If she hadn't hated Solas before, he wouldn't blame her for hating him now- every word that came out of Fen'Harel's mouth was more obnoxious than the last.

"It's more complicated than that," she told him, rubbing the back of her neck. "Look, I don't want to talk about this here. Suffice to say this completely innocent walk to try and talk to you had been the exact opposite of what I expected and I have questions for you too." He considered her for a moment before nodding his head and kneeling down beside her.

"I will wake you, then, and you will come to my quarters and leave when I am satisfied that you are not lying," he said sternly. She nodded and Solas, as he was wont to do, worried about her. He didn't know what would satisfy the Dread Wolf's curiosity, and didn't know what would prompt him to attack her again. He tried to focus on the memory as it was created in his head, perspective skewed by the Fade so he could see the look on his own face.

He wouldn't try to attack her again. His reaction had been fear and panic and he was merely curious now, hungry for information. Solas huffed out a tight breath, only barely satisfied.

He dismissed the image, standing up. He knew what he had to do if he was really so invested in her safety- sending scouts and spying on her wasn't enough. He couldn't hide behind this indifference he'd tried to build for himself, and he couldn't sit idly by.

As he walked past the guards they stared, but only one was brave enough to ask him where he was going. "To Skyhold," he answered wearily.

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is this okay? I mean this is definitely a thing that is happening but like are yall still with me on this? how do we feel about this? I know this took a shit tonne longer than all the other ones but tbh this is like the fourth draft of it. help me out here guys and thank u for all the super awesome reviews what the fuck i love them all. AND I also started publishing this on ao3 as well same name same title just in case you're more inclined to there.

ALSO if you're in the market for more time shenangians and more cute Lavellans and also more Sae, then PrinceRabbit just published a work with ALL OF THOSE IN IT plus their super adorable Lavellan Velyian who is like the light of my life. so heads up there deff go read it because it's great and I havent stopped screaming since they published it tbqh.


	9. Chapter 9

Saevin sat with her knees curled to her chest on Fen'Harel's bed, watching him as he paced restlessly back and forth. Sera had been furious that Saevin had revealed the future to _the freaky wolf god Solas_ instead of _ramming lightning so far up his ass he burped sparks, _and Dorian had reacted much better than Saevin had expected. _Are you all right, _amicus? _Take deep breaths and tell us what happened._

It embarrassed Saevin that she was the one to break in the end. She was ashamed of her weakness but that was hardly a new sensation for her. She had spent much of the Breach fiasco and indeed her whole life being disappointed in herself and this was simply a brand new story in a long narrative. At the same time, however, Fen'Harel was a dreamer, a _somniari_ that Keeper Dashana had taught her about. He could have killed her, stopped her heart from a dream, or worse he could have broken her mind and turned her to what the _shem _called Tranquil. She had been frightened and when she was scared her magic had to be forced to the surface. It was her classic weakness of will that had done her in, and even if she had been brave…

Where would she have run?

So she had stood and plodded down to his chambers. He had answered his door the very moment that she knocked and dragged her inside without a word. After he had begun pacing and gesturing as if he couldn't form words, she had decided to make herself comfortable on his mussed up bed. It didn't smell of Solas the way his bed had in Skyhold- it didn't smell like the _right _Solas, she supposed, because he was still very much Solas- like ink and old books and warm drinks, but rather sharp elfroot smoke and chemical paint.

"You were right to surrender so soon," he said finally. She shrugged and his eyes narrowed. "I would have killed you. I would have emptied your mind of all reality and made you an empty vessel, reliant on others for your very survival."

"I know. That's why I told you," she said, sounding all at once like the Tranquil she could have become. He scowled.

"You did not fight." He sounded disappointed, and suspicious.

"Where would I have gone, Dread Wolf? Besides, I told you that you and I meet. We become... close," _Creators _she hated that term, "and I won't hurt anyone who wears his face- no matter how many knives he puts to my throat."

"Close?" he asked skeptically.

"Mhm." It was easier to explain herself to Solas. She remembered soon after they'd started dating, as it were. She'd been all but draped over his side as he read and she had asked him if he would help her be Keeper one day. _Just visit me, _haren, _make sure that I lead them as well as I can. _He'd begun asking her questions, about her life and what she was taught and how she would run things without him. When he had finished questioning her, he'd pulled her in to kiss and told her that she would do just fine without him. _Will you visit me anyway?_ She'd breathed it against his mouth and he'd quietly assured her that he would.

"How close?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. She rolled her eyes.

_"That _is your question? I'm a mage from the future and your question is if we have sex two thousand years from now?" she asked incredulously. He scowled.

"I do not only have the one question," he insisted sullenly. She shook her head and turned to watch the night churn outside, heavy black clouds obscuring the stars. The glass in his window was green and depicted leaves and vines twisting around the black panes. "You will not answer me?" He sounded personally offended. She snorted.

"It'll be much less romantic if I do," she taunted. She swore his ears went red but he resumed his frantic pacing so she resolved not to dwell on it. Instead she focused on gathering as much warmth to her as possible- in her haste to meet her fate she hadn't bothered to grab a robe or anything to cover her breastband.

He stopped to stare at her ferociously, then moved to a large trunk in the corner of the room. He dug through it then tossed her a thick, soft white wrap. "How do we meet?" he demanded. She wrapped the fluffy shawl around her and looked up at him.

"I can't tell you without compromising the timeline," she said simply. He gritted his teeth but otherwise didn't protest, which was a relief. "That might come up a lot, but I'll answer as much as I can." It was an empty offer because she couldn't prove anything that she claimed. It required him to somehow _know_ whether or not she was lying.

"Do the gods still walk the land?" he asked sharply.

"Yes and no. That one I... honestly don't know the answer anymore," she admitted. _They technically do. You do. Mythal does._ He nodded then hesitantly moved to sit beside her. The bed dipped and she shied away slightly.

"Before I continue- I apologize. I had thought that I was the only man alive who had defied the gods' ban on the Beyond-"

"They've banned it?" she asked, her throat tight. He frowned, then laughed quietly.

"You _would not _know, would you? Yes, it has been banned. _The Beyond is the realm of your gods and to step foot is to despoil their glory,"_ he said in a mocking voice. "When they learned I had built my magic around its manipulation, that I walked their realm as if it were my own, they all but tripped over themselves to keep me close. If I was a more patient man I may have simply waited for them to raise me." She laughed emptily. "But we wander from topic- I apologize. I panicked and endangered you. I should have known better."

She hesitated, then her eyes slipped closed. "All right," she said quietly.

"Am I forgiven?" he asked.

"I... that's the wrong word for it. I acknowledge that you were wrong and that you regret your actions," she said. "If you tell me about the past, I'll forgive you." He snorted and reached out for her suddenly, taking her jaw in both his hands. She tensed up but he hushed her, his Divinity washing blue and cold over his skin. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Repeat your story- that you are from the future..." he prompted quietly. She frowned.

"I am from the future. The year is 9:43 Dragon-"

"They no longer mark the founding of Arlathan?" he asked, smoke pouring from his eyes. She flushed.

"No. The humans, they..." _I can't save Arlathan without risking the lives of everyone I love, "..._they don't find it particularly useful when they start forming cities, and eventually counting by the founding would be useless."

"The humans are forming societies?" She frowned, then nodded.

"Yes. I can't tell you why, when, or how though," she said sternly. He nodded, his Divinity swirling around his arms. She took his hand and studied the magic, trying to think back to Solas' style. He had never seemed particularly powerful, but she had never seen his Divinity before. She imagine he'd taken great pains not to show her, and she felt a twinge of distant anger at that. Was she not trustworthy? Would his powers not have been useful against Corypheus?

Had Solas even wanted her to triumph in the end?

"I do not think you are lying- I am usually better at detecting lies while I am Divine." He dropped his other hand from her face and watched her trace along his veins. "Your Solas never showed you Divinity?" he asked. She shook her head, running her fingertips down his palm to his nails. They were painted gold to match the thin, delicate chains that he wore in his ears alongside the thick, square clamps. The colour was dark against his sun-brown skin and she wondered when Solas abandoned this look for the role of unassuming apostate.

"He didn't," she answered, trying to coax the blueness to follow her. It didn't seem prone to following too far away from his palm. He grinned.

"A shame- sex is much better with Divinity," he murmured. She snorted, feeling her ears burn.

"You'll do fine without it," she returned, then felt the oddest sensation of an incorporeal hand on her leg. She looked at him and he grinned- stupid and boyish and confident. She wondered if she preferred Solas' distance to Fen'Harel's smugness. The hand moved from her knee upwards, and she jolted when it slipped to cup her thigh. "Stop it," she snapped, and the feeling dissipated.

"We _are _the same person, your Solas and I…" he reminded her. She narrowed her eyes.

"Only by a technicality- by the time I'm supposed to meet you you'll be fascinating and kind and attentive," she said, standing up and walking away from him. She abandoned the wrap he'd given her.

"You think I am not those things now?" he asked, moving to stand pressed against her back. She turned and put her hand squarely on his chest.

"You are a _boy_," she said firmly. His face dropped into a scowl and she hopped to sit on his desk. "Now ask me questions about the future or let me go to bed."

"I am _offering _to take you to bed," he insisted.

"Which I still don't really understand. Before it was because you're stupid enough to think that your cock would magically coax answers out of me, but now I'm not really sure what your angle is," she said, gnawing her lip. He laughed sharply.

"I can describe to you several angles I am certain you would enjoy-"

"Would you just answer me?" she asked, agitation rising with the tension in her shoulders. He shrugged.

"What could I say that was not obvious? Now that you are definitely not a spy, why should I trouble myself with caution?" he asked. "Unless you genuinely wish for me to stop, I say that you are good-looking, clever enough, and I see no reason we should _not _have sex."

"You are the boy version of the only man I've ever loved?"

"I am a much more flexible, Divine version of the old man that managed to take you to bed _just fine,"_ he replied. "Unless that is your way of telling me no?" She pulled back a bit to study him- he was draped in gauzy green that was tied around him for warmth more than presentability, and besides his earrings he wore no jewellery. His steel blue eyes were stark and curious.

"It isn't," she answered. He grinned crookedly, drawing himself close to her with his limbs loose and lazy.

"I am pleased," he said quietly, brushing her hair back. She took his wrist, her nails digging into it shallowly. He laughed. "I bet you claw like a bear in bed," he murmured, his eyes heavy-lidded.

"You've fucked a bear?" she said before she could bite it back. He rolled his eyes and snorted at a joke she didn't understand.

"No but a bear has fucked me." She pushed him back, standing up hurriedly before she could be trapped against his desk.

"I'll think about it," she said quickly. She couldn't outright reject him- well, she could have, but she didn't want to. He was beautiful and cocky and _Solas _and his attention made her feel like maybe what Solas had felt for her had been real; but she also couldn't go through with it. There were timelines to consider, holes in the fabric of reality to avoid. _Dorian would kill her._ "Now unless you have any more questions…?" she asked, edging towards the door.

He inclined his head to dismiss her. "Go to sleep, _da'vin. _I will continue questioning you tomorrow," he said. She nodded and turned to scurry out of his room, back to the comfort of her friends. He sighed wearily, waiting until he heard the second door slam shut before reaching down to cup himself in his palm. He groaned quietly, trying to pretend like his clumsy hand belonged to a stranger.

It didn't take him long to cum- _when was the last time he'd had sex? _When he reasserted his consciousness, he tried to think back. _Probably Cha'cer, _he decided, then his stomach curled in horror.

Cha'cer could _not _know that he was pursuing Saevin in earnest.

. . . . .

Saevin settled down next to Sera at breakfast, the rogue eating an omelet in a manner that was borderline religious. The Inquisitor could sympathize, reaching out eagerly to pull one onto her plate as Fen'Harel settled down next to her. The eggs were fluffy and browning ever so slightly at the edges, and dotted with vividly green and red peppers. Melted marble cheese oozed out from the inside of the egg, and warm dark strips of brown bacon split the surface.

She grabbed her fork and split off a piece, shoving it in her mouth as a passing servant poured her a crystal glass full of dark, sweet orange juice. She looked over to her friends to make sure they were eating properly, and was delighted to find that Dorian had relented finally and begun piling thick slices of honey-glazed ham onto his plate around buttered brown toast and some vivid yellow pineapple. Bull looked on in smug satisfaction, eating a greasy brown sausage dripping in syrup that actually looked like it was enough food for him, while Sera didn't even bother to lift her head from the plate unless it was to chug a glass of orange juice around her mouthfuls of food.

Saevin's mouth was full when the Dread Wolf began to drill her. "What is the state of religion in the future?" he asked, avoiding the omelet in favour of a plateful of lightly herbed, roasted potatoes. She swallowed what was in her mouth.

"The humans have their own religion that is predominant, while other elves keep up the worship of… well all of you-," he frowned at that, "-dwarves have their own religion… just like that," she said, sharply reminding herself not to mention the Qunari.

"What gods do the _shem _worship?" he asked. She grabbed some golden brown toast and piled her omelet on it, with a few extra strips of bacon.

"Well, they're monotheist and their god has a prophet and that's pretty much all I know about it," she asked, then laughed. "Which is sort of pathetic considering-" She cut herself off, ramming her improvise sandwich in her mouth.

"Considering?" he prompted, but she shook her head stubbornly.

"Can't say. What are the gods like?" she asked, swallowing about half a glass of juice. He smiled wryly.

"Andruil is a viper that is obsessed with the hunt; June is a sadistic fool who obsesses himself with perfection; Sylaise is meek and will commit atrocities if she thinks it will keep the peace; Ghilan'nain is an upstart desperate to prove herself; Dirthamen and Falon'din are two halves of one whole monster, selfish and vain to the point of madness; Mythal was a true friend whose murder shook all of _Elvhenan_; and her husband is a short-tempered beast who claims to have more control of himself than I do of my Wolf," he said, shrugging his shoulders. Saevin had finished her sandwich and moved on to the ham that Dorian wolfed down.

"And yourself?" she asked. He grinned teasingly.

"I am exceedingly handsome and easily excited by rebellion," he told her. She smiled.

"That's it? Were you never fond of them?" she asked. His grin dropped and he swallowed, turning to busy himself with stacking light brown pancakes onto his now empty plate.

"Things were not always this way. The 'gods' used to stand for something, used to believe in a greater good. In fact, it is the attribution of godhood that was their downfall, ultimately. When I first approached the pantheon, they _were _alarmed by my mastery of the Fade- back then the ban was for protection. It was long enough ago that we did not understand the place as well as we do now, when it was a danger to untrained mages seeking power.

"As I integrated myself with them, however, I noticed the change happening. June's crafts became wicked and Andruil's boredom lethal. Ghilan'nain became cruel to impress Andruil, Falon'din and Dirthamin all but barricaded themselves within their temples, and Sylaise isolated herself to try and ignore what was happening. Elgar'nan's temper grew dangerously short and his outbursts more frequent- Mythal could not contain him as she once had," he explained, never looking up from his plate.

She cleared her throat quietly. "I'm sorry, Fen'Harel," she said gently. He shook his head and looked down to her.

"I will lock them away nonetheless, because it will save them as much as it will save the empire. Once they became 'gods' they were forever changed, and the People need a long break from this system. Perhaps one day I will release them and they can reintegrate themselves into civilization," he said shortly.

_I'm so sorry Solas, _she thought. "How do you and I…" he began. She rolled her eyes but it was less malicious last time.

"I thought you said that you had other questions?" she asked. He shrugged.

"My future has pretty green eyes and dark hair. Why would I not be curious?" he returned. She laughed quietly, her neck hot, but eventually humoured him.

"You take me into the Fade to the site of a tragedy and I kiss you because you're handsome and smart," she said. He grinned and leaned over, and she felt like he was going to kiss her neck. Shock froze her as his breath brushed her ear and his lips pressed against the hollow of her ear…

Then Cha'cer walked in and it was as if someone had dumped a bucket of freezing water over him.

He jerked away sharply, straightening his back and nodded at her as she sat down. She all but ignored him, casting her eyes over to Sera to check if she had noticed her entrance. The blonde hadn't, and was instead locked in some sort of muffin eating contest with Bull. The general's face fell and the Dread Wolf stared curiously. "Good morning, _elgar'lin_," he said. Cha'cer's head snapped guiltily over to him.

"Hey Fen. Save me food?" she muttered. He nodded but shoved his own plate over- he hadn't touched the food on it.

"Eager for a glimpse of your rogue girl?" he asked teasingly. Cha'cer's pale skin went pink and she cleared her throat.

"Don't be fucking stupid," she said tightly, starting to butter the pancakes and making quite a mess of it. "What's on the agenda for today, boss man?" she asked. Syrup made an even worse mess of her plate and her face as she began to pack in food to avoid speaking. Fen'Harel acted as if this wasn't strange behaviour, so Saevin bit her tongue.

"There's a never ending stream of people who want my attention, so I thought I would hold court for a little while," he said. Cha'cer nodded and tried to casually glance over at the muffin eating contest, which had turned into a sausage eating contest. Sera was losing only because she kept stopping to tell Bull _well it ain't fair- one of us chokes on sausage daily and I do better eating _muffins _anyhow._

"In the meantime, Dorian and I will keep looking into the spells we have to learn," Saevin said, trying to clear her plate of the last of the ham she'd taken.

"Answer to a question no one asked, Spaghetti," the general muttered.

. . . . .

"So if the mark was a product of soaked-in magic from Fen'Harel's orb, then I think it's reasonable to theorize that we may have ended up here due to some residual connection the magic has to the god," Dorian said, spreading several books out in front of her and gesturing sharply.

"Why wouldn't it take up to Solas instead?" she asked. The Tevinter grinned, tapping his temple.

"For the same reason, I think, that Solas never tipped us off to his unquenchable god-like powers!" he declared. "And perhaps for the same reason he wasn't in possession of his orb. I don't think our dear friend Solas was strong enough to use it!" Saevin frowned.

"It's his magic. Why wouldn't he be able to use it?" she asked.

"It is a _vessel _which _contains _his magic- perhaps he entered _uthenara _and lost connection with his orb, or perhaps locking the gods away merely drains away so much of his magic that he's no longer strong enough to open it. Not quite clear on that one, but the point is that I don't think the mark would recognize Solas as its owner because his aura wasn't strong enough to claim it- therefore it plopped us in a cozy little spot where it could recognize a version of Solas strong enough to wield it!" he said, pointing down hard on one of the pages. She peered at it- it was written in a fractured common by a freed slave who had devoted themselves to the study of magic.

"Why _this _point in time though? And that still doesn't explain how… how the Elder One got a hold of it," she said haltingly. They had agreed to not refer to Corypheus by name lest they change something vital in the timeline.

"This point in particular could have been chosen for any number of reasons- the peak of Fen'Harel's power, the precipice on which he becomes unable to unlock the orb, a randomized choice based on the whim of a pseudo-sentient magic orb… the list goes on. As for the Elder One, I couldn't speak towards why he would have the artifact… there were- will be- several paintings around Tevinter depicting Magisters holding such orbs. Perhaps Corypheus simply knew where it was kept, though I can't imagine that the Imperium would ever lose track of such powerful pieces," he said, moving back to the shelf to find more books.

"What if… Solas gave it to him?" she asked quietly. Dorian turned to her and frowned. "If Solas wasn't powerful enough to open it, maybe someone else would be."

"If that's the case we'll also have to consider that depending on how long Solas had been asleep, he may not have known anything about the Tevinter Imperium or darkspawn at all," he said firmly, turning away from her. "We mustn't always expect the worst, Sae. Perhaps he only found a very powerful, vaguely sinister creature with enough mana to open the damn-"

There was a flash of red and suddenly the Keep shook so hard that Saevin would have been thrown off the railing of Dorian hadn't caught her. Just as she righted herself the shaking began again, throwing both of them back onto their asses as blue pulsed so hard it broke the windows. When it paused, Dorian lept to his feet and all but dragged Saevin down to the rotunda towards the main hall.

Fen'Harel, Divine and glimmering in the iridescent light that was cast through the stained glass windows, stood with his arms raised and a staff poised over the throat of a laughing elven woman. Her hair was wild and straw-blonde, tangled and dry with branches and leaves sticking out of it. She wore furs and little else, with writhing tattoos of wild beasts crawling up her legs. She was Divine as well, though her colour was a pulsing red that gave Saevin a headache to watch. "You are _dismissed, _Andruil," the Dread Wolf said, his deep voice echoing off of the parapets and skimming across the stones.

Saevin's heart stuttered in her chest. She looked at the wild woman again- sharp teeth that tore into her own lip and made it bleed, with faint red blood stains all over her, as if she had torn into an animal to feed on it. _This _was Andruil, goddess of the hunt.

"Eat my _cunt _Wolf-Boy," she said, spreading her legs. Fen'Harel ignored her as his Divinity twisted down the staff and hummed a song so sweet and clear that it made the hymn that Mother Giselle had sang the night of Haven sound stilted and out of tune.

The red pulse _whooshed _into the air like a great wave with a sound like hunting horns being blown too loudly, clashing sharply with the clean mana that poured from Fen'Harel. She laughed as it darted towards her, a titter that sounded like broken glass, then jerked the spear that had been resting at her side up to puncture Fen'Harel's shoulder. An unholy howl ripped from his throat and he pitched forward, the sharp end of the staff he held driving into her upper arm. The noise she made wasn't pain, but a cry of ecstasy as she dropped her weapon and bowed her back. The Dread Wolf's blacked claws burst from his slender hands, clutching at the staff while his six red eyes strained against his human form, but he didn't transform fully into the wolf.

"Come on Dread Wolf," she said, her eyes alight with excitement. Navy blue magic poured from his hands and down the staff further as he tried to fend off her and his wound at the same time. The noise of the combined magics was so shrill and loud that it cut into Saevin's head- she fell to her knees and clutched her ears at the same time Dorian did.

There was a hiss and suddenly everything stopped. An arrow stuck out of Andruil's thigh but didn't seem to hurt her- only fascinate her. She turned to the source and Saevin felt her tongue go dry- Sera stood with her bow, another arrow prepped and ready to fly. "He told you to get the _fuck _out, bitch, now get _out!" _she shouted. The goddess stood, getting to her feet in disjointed and jerking motions that likened Andruil to a spider.

"I only wanted an invite to Wolf-Boy's little party," she said innocently, slurping loudly as she sucked up blood that trickled from her mouth.

_"Leave," _Fen'Harel's voice echoed.

"Suck my tit you fucking pup," she said with a high, hysterical laugh. The red pulsed brightly and Saevin hissed and snapped her eyes shut. When she opened them, Andruil was gone and Fen'Harel stood so stiffly that it was as if he'd been frozen.

Cha'cer was at his side in moments, her face red with fury. "I told Sera not to shoot I fucking _told her to keep out of it-" _

"It is fine," he said quietly. "I only… I forgot about the feast."

"No one else did so don't worry," Cha'cer said, patting his shoulder. He sighed wearily.

"I think I'm going to close court for today. Could you disperse everyone, _elgar'lin?" _he asked, his voice never rising from a whisper as his Divinity slid off of him like water and dissolved into the floor.

"Gotcha chief. _Show's over folks, everyone back to their lives."_

Fen'Harel disappeared from the hall without a word.

. . . . .

Saevin waited patiently until she saw a servant slip out of the kitchens with a covered plate of food. She took a deep breath and fell into step beside him, which alarmed the poor boy- however, he'd obviously been trained not to spill food. _"Aneth ara, falon," _she said pleasantly.

"H-Hello," the servant stammered back quietly.

"Is that headed towards the Dread Wolf?" she asked, gesturing towards the tray. He nodded slowly. "Perhaps I could take it for you?" she offered.

"I couldn't. It would put Lord Fen'Harel at risk of being poisoned," he said stiffly, his mouth trembling as he spoke. Saevin smiled.

"You could carry it all the way there, I promise. I just want to be the one to hand it to him," she said. It wasn't a very good plan- the Dread Wolf had been meticulous about keeping her away all day, but now that night fell it seemed he required food.

The servant considered for a few moments, then nodded. Relief flooded Sae as she followed the boy along, asking about his work and how he liked it in the Keep. When they finally approached the Dread Wolf's door, the servant handed her the tray with a smile and waved shyly before darting away.

She took a deep breath, then entered his room.

He was shirtless with a white gauze around his shoulder where Andruil's spear had pierced him. He was glowering out the window and didn't turn as she entered, or as she quietly closed the door. "Tell me you did not frighten away some poor servant for an excuse to speak with me," he said, his jest weak.

"No, I very nicely asked him to give me the tray when we got to the door because he was worried about me poisoning you. How come you aren't healing your wound?" she asked, setting the tray down and moving over to where he sat. He let her examine it without a fuss, unwrapping the bandage and cringing. _"Fenedhis, _heal this before it gets infected!" she insisted.

"I cannot, or else I would. Andruil created the poison that coats her spear especially for me- it will force my transformations and make my other form unstable for days at a time. I can only wait until my body works the poison out," he explained. She frowned, standing up and moving to the door.

Luckily, there was a servant passing through the halls looking bored. "Excuse me?" she asked. They looked up and stood straighter at the sight of her. "Oh, don't do that. Please, I need arbour blessing, amrita vein, and as much elfroot as I can get without depleting the stores." She wasn't an expert healer by any means, but Elan and Adan had taught her enough that she believed herself capable of brewing a potion to negate poison.

She returned to his side to wait, unwrapping the thoroughly soiled bandages and rummaging through the kit beside him for fresh ones. "Tell me what happened," she said as she searched. He laughed quietly.

"And here I thought I was being tended to out of concern," he teased.

"I am concerned- you obviously have no concept of healing outside of spells and somehow have no one else in the Keep that does," she scolded.

"Why? We are all mages," he reminded her.

"Yes, and how does that help you now?" she asked. He inclined his head in defeat and she found the gauze, moving to sit beside him. It was an awkward angle and she yelped when he moved her to sit on his lap. _That _was better- she would wrap it around his shoulder and under his arm more firmly, without having to guess at where to let the gauze sit- and at the same time, her ears flushed. "So are you going to tell me what happened?" she asked, trying not to let her voice stutter.

"There is not much to the story that you did not see. Andruil breached the wards- the mages on the wall say that she caught them the very second that they were recasting- and appeared in the throne room. She cast her magic, I cast mine. From there, you were watching," he explained, shrugging. Saevin scowled.

"It never occurred to you to layer your wards so she can't pass through during recasting?" she demanded. He laughed.

"With what mages, _little storm?_ We are a rebellion, and most refuse to join us in our struggle against the gods. What mages we do have are weak from years of slavery where their magic was repressed at their very fingertips," he said. She rolled her eyes.

"You're a _god, _Fen'Harel, wander out there and cast a layer of fucking wards," she insisted. He looked surprised. "_Your _wards would last longer, wouldn't they? Cast them as a back-up then recast right before the others-"

"Stop," he blurted. She did, scowling at him, but realized that a servant was standing awkwardly in the doorway with a bundle of herbs and a mortar and pestle for her. She moved to go collect the supplies, but Fen'Harel held her still and gestured the servant forward. They set the bundle down near Saevin then hurried out of the room. "What are you going to do with those?" he asked curiously, eyeing the herbs suspiciously.

"I'm going to make a salve that will suck the poison out of the wound," she explained, gathering a bundle of elfroot. He looked nervous and she laughed. "It might sting a little-"

"Is that unavoidable?" he asked quickly.

"Don't be such a baby," she scolded with a grin, starting to grind up the ingredients. He shifted riotously underneath her but otherwise gave no indication of discomfort.

. . . . .

It was the early hours of the morning- had to have been around three am, she figured- when the salve finally finished its work and the poison had left Fen'Harel. He healed the spear wound with a flourish, stretching sleepily. She yawned, rolling her shoulders, and stood up off of him.

She was surprised when he pulled her back and almost fully awake when he coaxed her down to lay on his chest. "Fen'Harel?" she asked slowly.

"Stay tonight," he murmured.

"Why?" she asked, her voice tight with dread. He held up a hand.

"I am not asking you to sleep with me, _da'vin, _only beside me. It has been… too long since I had the pleasure of another's body heat," he said haltingly.

"How long is too long?" she asked flatly. He laughed, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. It was a very Solas habit that made her throat tight- it was too late at night for her to be thinking of her mage.

"Not so long, maybe, but the request stands," he said. She bit her lip as she considered it, and her eyes slipped closed without her noticing. She almost nodded off on top of him, but he gently prodded her awake again. She didn't even have the energy to blush.

"All right," she agreed finally, standing up clumsily. He followed her and politely looked to the side as she slipped out of her tunic she was wearing, which made her laugh. "You know, I was planning on sleeping in my smalls," she said.

"I thought as much, although I would have offered you clothes if you had asked. Would you mind terribly if I did as well?" he asked, his hand tugging at the waist of his trousers. She shook her head, watching intently as he slipped out of them. He wiggled his hips a little and she realized how hard she was looking, but giggled at his stupid flourish anyway.

He got in first then spread the blankets for her. She hesitated for a second- _the team is going to hang me- _then slipped in beside him. He rolled the quilt around her back (and how strange it was because she had told Solas the first time he'd slept in her bed that she preferred the blankets rolled to form a mound behind her, but never Fen'Harel) and put his arms around her.

She remembered suddenly, just as she was about to settle down, that Andruil had mentioned something strange when she had been struck by Sera's arrow. "Fen'Harel?" she asked. He grunted. "What party was Andruil talking about?" she asked.

He stayed silent long enough that she thought he'd fallen asleep, then sighed. "The gods that I am not currently at war with are coming to choose their sides soon. It will be a feast, though I doubt it will end well," he reported quietly. She nodded, resolving herself to ask about it more in the morning when he sounded less exhausted.

She shut her eyes and found it curious that in that moment, when it would be so easy to close her eyes and imagine that he was Solas and that they were in Skyhold, she didn't. She relished Fen'Harel's hold on her and the slight uncanniness of the room that was not but would be hers one day, and before she fell asleep she wiggled up to kiss the jaw of the Dread Wolf and murmur _goodnight._

_._

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all right so hopefully i answered more questions than i raised hereeee and u were all super sweet with your feedback and gossssshh it's made my week to lowkey check my email during class so I can read reviews 3 feel free to keep tellin me what ya think bc it does help the writing process yeah? like so i know what im fuckin up lmao.


	10. Chapter 10

Cha'cer marched sharply into Sera's quarters, slightly alarmed by the fact that they were alone. She hadn't seen Sera since she'd shot a fucking arrow into Andruil's leg, but Fen had not-so-subtly insisted that the general be the one to give Sera her outfit for the feast (it wasn't for a few days yet, but Fen liked to give the tailors times to do their work).

It was lovely, an off the shoulder long-sleeved tunic made of royal sea silk that split on her right hip and fluttered down to her knees. There were soft details done in gold around the hems and buttons that was almost immediately overwhelmed by Sera tugging her sleeves up. The tunic came with a pair of soft lustrous cotton tights and dark brown sandals that Sera snorted at and replaced with her heavy boots. "So what, I'm s'posed to wear this when the other bullshit elves come over?" she asked, spinning around as if she were going to get a full look at herself.

"Yes. We're going to pass you off as visitors, since hiding you won't really be an option with Dirthamen in attendance," she said, stopping Sera's twirling to straighten her top. "You'll also be unarmed so you can't shoot them full of arrows," she added coldly.

The rogue snorted. "Wha, Andruil your girlfriend or something?" Cha'cer scrunched her nose. "Can't imagine why else you'd be so pissy about me shootin' her. She was a bitch who broke in, then she was a bitch who poofed away or wha'ever. Problem solved," she said, pushing Cha'cer fussing hands away.

"No, it isn't _problem solved._ You've now attracted the attention of a dangerously unstable mage who likes to _hunt things down,"_ she snapped in return, grabbing her shoulders. "This isn't a game, Sera, and these aren't just nobles-"

"Shut the fuck up. Shite, they're _always _just nobles the only way they ever get to be _more _than just nobles is if someone fuckin' makes 'em that way. If we all just shut up and agree that havin' a fancy title don't make you no better than no one else then maybe we wouldn't have so much friggen trouble," she snapped.

"It isn't that simple-"

"Yeah, it friggen is. Fuck sakes, Cha'cer, what was I supposed to do?" She looked upset.

_"Not shoot the mage full of holes?"_ she demanded. Sera swung her body back, holding herself loosely and swaying gently to try and maintain a casual demeanour. She giggled nervously.

"Y-You weren't even a lil' impressed? I mean, was a great shot right? From across the room an' I… called her a bitch," she trailed off in a mumble, turning red around her neck. Cha'cer started in surprise- she hadn't really expected Sera to have been thinking about her reaction.

"N-No, it was… it was cool," she admitted. "I mean _I _was scared shitless but I thought she was gunna jump at you. B-But no, it was… you shoot… real good, it was gr-awesome," she stammered, then cringed. _Gr-awesome?_ "I-I meant to say-" she started again, but Sera walked up and leaned down to kiss the general on the cheek.

"I know what you meant," she said quietly. Cha'cer bit her lip and Sera nudged her. "Now get out so I can take this stupid thing off and dress like a normal person," she said. Cha'cer nodded dumbly and turned on her heel to walk out. Before she crossed the threshold, she paused.

"S-Sera, do you wanna go and… I-I mean there's a noble in town who's been trying to smuggle his slaves out before Fen can get him. If you wanted to you could stir shit so my team can get the people to safety?" she asked.

"Fuckin' right I will, gimmie five seconds!" she burst and there was a clatter as she fell over.

"All right?" Cha'cer asked, shifting her weight back and forth anxiously. She debated turning around or not, but heard Sera scramble to her feet.

"Fine, yeah, wait for me in the hall," she said.

. . . . .

Saevin woke up with Fen'Harel wrapped around her, waiting for panic to set in. Moments passed and he growled in his sleep, pulling her closer and tangling their legs together. She waited for horror as she felt his breath against her neck but nothing came but warm satisfaction. It had been two entire years since Solas had left and it felt good to wake up next to someone again, and better yet to have them holding on to her.

He was _hot _though, and she felt her skin growing clammy. She wondered if it was the Wolf inside him that made him so warm and rolled over, resolved to ask him. His face was relaxed in his sleep and he'd left his earrings in overnight- his ear twitched under her fingers as she untangled the chains and his eyes slid open groggily, bleary and blue.

"Why are you so warm?" she asked. He exhaled loud and slow, shutting his eyes again.

"Wolf. Been warmer since the Divinity," he murmured.

"Did you not have the Wolf before your Divinity?" she continued. He was quiet for a while and smiled weakly.

"I could already shapeshift, but Wolf is different. Wolf _is _a wolf, shapeshifting was borrowing the form of a wolf," he explained. She nodded thoughtfully, rolling him over so she could sit on him. He grunted and she grinned.

"Can you still shapeshift into different things?" she asked.

"Is this your way of telling me I have slept enough?" he returned, still muddled with sleep. She nodded and waited for him to answer her question. "Fine, yes. I am able to shapeshift still, but it is more effective to use the Wolf. Animals recognize the Wolf as a separate entity, whereas when I am shapeshifted whatever animal I am is regarded as an outsider."

"Can you teach others to shapeshift?" She wasn't… _very _interested in that. It would only be an experiment, but to take on the form of a bird? To be able to fly, even just for a little while? She probably would have given her right arm for it when she was younger.

"It is more intensive than it sounds, _da'vin. _Being a hermit gave me a head start- I was constantly surrounded by animals, so the required study and meditation on their form was relatively simple," he explained. "And if you are grilling me so early in the morning-"

"Actually I believe it's sometime around midday."

"-then am I to assume that I may ask questions as well?" She nodded and sat back against his bended knees. He stretched his back and cracked his shoulders, then settled back down. "Have you drank from the Well of Sorrows?" he asked. She tensed. "Is that a yes?"

_As long as I'm careful I can tell him about this. _"Yes, I have. How did you… know?"

"Her magic is on you, and when you were first captured Sera mentioned the 'creepy god well' you drank from. There is only one. How did you get past the sentinels?"

_"_Abelaslet me pass," she said, immediately regretting the use of a proper name. Fen'Harel's face lit up curiously and he grinned.

_"Fenedhis, _the grouch allowed you to go to the Well? My, you must be special," he teased. He knew Abelas, then, and it occurred to her that if Fen'Harel knew him then Solas had as well.

"You will be with me when we find it- perhaps he let us pass for you," she suggested. He snorted, scratching at his head.

"Doubtful- and he did not care for me in my time at the Temple and did not care for my blatant disrespect for the authority and holiness of Divinity." He shrugged and cast her one of those grins that Solas had always wore whenever he managed to win an argument with Vivienne. "Apparently there was something about _lord of rebellion _that was not clear to him."

"He never said anything about your identity. He did sound a little irritated with you, but I always thought it was because you were urging to him to abandon the temple to aid the elves," she said, eyes turning towards the ceiling to try and remember the Temple of Mythal.

"He disliked me but revered authority- he would not betray my secret for the same reason I would have to bully him to abandon a temple that no longer requires his protection. He is devoted to the 'gods' to the point of nonsensicality. He worships a woman who is no longer there." He looked wistful and she reached out to run her thumb along his jaw. It was an old habit- his facial structure had fascinated her and before she had learned of the implications, she had traced _vallaslin _on his face absently, trying to mark which god would fit him. None of them ever had.

It was sort of funny now, she supposed.

"Were you and Mythal close?" she asked quietly. He huffed out a quick, hard breath.

"She was a mentor to me- she defended me against gods who would sooner see me dead. She worked towards justice and despite her folly, she was a good woman and perhaps the closest thing to a mother I have ever known, though the comparison is not perfect. I would… prefer not to speak of her, please," he added softly.

"Of course. What other animals can you shapeshift into?" she asked eagerly. His face pulled from tentative pain to a laugh, which was good enough for her.

"I will tell you at breakfast, _da'vin,"_ he insisted.

"Well it's actually closer to midday so-"

He rolled over on top of her and laid flat with a loud groan, his laugh reverberating through his chest and into her back.

. . . . .

The Iron Bull had taken to spending his afternoons squished into a library much too small for him, trying to coax Dorian out into the sunlight. "A walk'll clear your head, _kadan,"_ he urged, but Dorian ignored him.

"We aren't getting home unless I stay here and do research _amatus, _I know what I'm doing," he said quickly, throwing one book over his shoulder in favour of another. "It would be easier if the legends were true and the ancient elves really were in possession of all the knowledge in the world. Half of the garbage I have to work with isn't any better than Genitivi and I swear Varric could rewrite some of their smut and I have _read Swords and Shields."_

"You're making my head hurt just looking at you Dorian."

"Then help," the mage urged, tossing him a book. It was written in that weird broken Common the elves used, and frankly reading regular Common took a bit of effort on his part. He was fluent in three languages, but had learned to write Qunlat and Tevene first.

"Are you at least going to the party Solas is throwing?" Bull asked. Dorian shook his head with a dry laugh.

"A human? Maker forbid," he said, finally turning his attention away from the tome in his hands. "What about you?"

"Nah. Cha'cer offered to make up a story for me but I ain't really big on fancy dress-ups between nobles. They don't take kindly to breaking their weapons over your knee and drinking out your issues," he said with a shrug. The Tevinter man laughed quietly, looking at the great stacks of books surrounding them with an almost dread expression. "Why don't we make a date then?" Bull asked impulsively.

"A date?" Dorian asked, raising an eyebrow. Bull rolled his eyes.

"A real one. Climb up to one of those forgotten towers, eat, talk. Do something other than bury our faces in books older than we are?" he asked. The mage shifted, looking almost uncomfortable for a second. "You don't gotta say yes, Dorian, it was only a suggestion," he added.

"No no, I… I would like that, I think. A date. I'm just… still not really used to stuff like that. Usually at Skyhold we spend our time with the Chargers so it'll just be strange. That's all," he said, tapping his fingers frantically against the table. A small grin was forming at the edges of his mouth.

. . . . .

"What about a Mabari?" Saevin asked, nearly _bouncing _with excitement. She sat on one of the delicately wrought benches in the shade of an enormous willow tree. Fen'Harel had taken her to a small grove just outside of the Keep but still inside the wards (she had done nothing but grin smugly as he cast an extra layer of them). He was a bad influence, keeping her away from research, but she also wanted to see shapeshifting _desperately. _

"I do not recognize the word," he said, sitting back in the grass. She frowned, then nodded. _Mabari are from the Imperium and defect,_ she reminded herself.

"They aren't real yet, sorry. H'm… a cat?" she asked. He grinned and dipped his head, then dissolved into a cloud of grey smoke. She stood up but the smoke cleared to reveal a lithe brown feline with big blue eyes that stared at her curiously. "Oh, oh no," she hummed, covering her mouth. He mewled at her, jumping up to sit on her lap as she settled back down. "Oh Creators I like you much better like this-" he nipped her hand "-can I pet you? Would it be strange if I pet you?"

There was a cloud of smoke and he sat on her lap with his knees on either side of her hips, grinning crookedly. "Not at all," he said innocently and she swatted at his chest. He took her wrist in his hand and kissed her pulse, making eye contact with her and refusing to even blink lest it spoil the moment. She huffed and felt herself go red, and he pulled her arm in close to wrap around him.

He leaned in until she could feel his warm breath against her mouth. She angled her face up, feeling her lips part involuntarily as he reached out hold the back of her neck, playing with her hair. He shut his eyes and suddenly the spell was broken and she took his shoulders and pushed him back, her ears scalding hot. "No thank-you," she said, her voice higher than she had intended it to be.

"Saevin?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, just don't. Please." Fen'Harel wasn't entirely like Solas, but he would one day be him and would decide that he didn't want to be with her anymore. Fen'Harel didn't have that context for their relationship and kissing him felt too much like taking advantage of that ignorance.

"I will not, then, if you wish," he agreed, sitting back. She smiled.

"Thank-you. Can you do a nug?" she asked. He snorted, falling backwards to land on the ground and in a burst of smoke he was a tiny brown nug like those that had run around her feet in the Emerald Graves. She cooed for a moment, lifting him up to sit on her again. "You know the best part of this is that it confirms that you've spent a significant amount of time studying the movement and survival habits of nugs," she teased. He jumped from her lap and turned back with a laugh.

"I hid among the _durgen'len _for a time, after Mythal was killed. Watching nugs was preferable to insulting my hosts by insinuating that a caste system was inhumane," he explained. She smiled and he sat up a bit straighter. "Could I try showing you the Wolf again?" he asked. Her stomach clenched and he put up his hands. "You know, this time, that he is perfectly safe."

"You talk about him like he isn't _you_," she said. He shrugged, then sat up on his knees and rested his chin on her legs.

"He is. He is not. Solas never showed you the Wolf?" he asked. She frowned.

"Of course he didn't. I told you, he never even told me his name, why would he keep that hidden but still show me the giant six eyed wolf he could turn into?" she asked, stroking his hair. He smiled.

"I am trying to make him sound bad so you will stop seeing him when you look at me," he explained. She snorted.

"You're identical, so…"

"Yes, but perhaps if I am open enough and answer enough of your questions you will finally kiss me," he said, straightening himself up to rest his elbows by her hips. She flushed. "I will not initiate if you wish for me to stop, but I wonder at what I will do to you that will make you so hesitant." She sighed, gnawing at her lip.

"You just break up with me, Fen. I don't really understand why, but you break up with me and then you leave me altogether with hardly a word. At this point… in my current timeline it's been two years since you left and I don't know if you're safe or alive, and I've had no closure…" She shook her head.

"I am willing _right now_, Saevin. No matter what happens in the future, right now I want you like you are air and I am suffocating," he insisted, but didn't move closer to her.

"What if I do something horrendous? What if I ruin everything and-"

"I do _not care," _he insisted. "Can you think of anything you might have done?"

"I- I can't tell you." _The orb, I'm going to shatter your orb. _"I can't tell you but you told me that it wasn't my fault but then you left anyway." Her voice was starting to shake and she tried to harden herself so she wouldn't cry. She hadn't cried about Solas in ages, and she refused to cry in front of Fen'Harel.

"How many people die?" he asked. She frowned. "Because of what you will do?" She shook her head.

"It isn't like that, I don't kill anyone I just… I break something in the process of fighting something else. It was using the thing I break and when I kill it the… thing will break too." It was a horrible, spotty explanation that revealed more than she should have altogether, but her hands were starting to shake and he was still touching her.

"Then I do not care, Sae," he breathed. She shook her head, even as he pulled her off of the bench and against him. "I do not care and if I am so petty in the future as to abandon you- abandon your work and your cause that you claim _Tara'sylan Tel'as_ for- then I regret who I will become." He looked so determined, so violently focused and she'd never seen the expression on Solas. Her heart was pounding and she took his jaw in her hands. She could have this, and if Solas didn't like it then he would have to learn to explain to people why they upset him so that when they accidentally travelled back in time they'd have a solid reason not to seduce his younger self.

His nose bumped hers as he leaned in and then her body burst out into white glyphs. They spread across her arms and her face, down her chest and around her hips. She stood up jerkily, as if she were a ragdoll with strings tied to her limbs, and pulled away from him. More than that the feeling continued, the horrible _possessed _feeling that she had last felt when Flemythal had bid her restrain Morrigan, and marched her awkwardly to the edge of the Glade. It deposited her there and the glyphs evaporated as she fell to her knees.

Fen'Harel was beside her in seconds, scowling and trying to straighten her up too quickly. She vomited, careful to turn her head as far away from him as possible when she did so. "The will of Mythal," he breathed. "Why?"

"I drank from the Well," she said, shrugging. He already knew that.

"Why did she intervene- _how _did a dead woman intervene?" he asked, his voice rising. Saevin cursed, wiping her mouth off and getting to her feet. She couldn't tell him that Mythal lived if he did not already know, and she felt an unexpected tug of pain at that. The goddess had been important to Fen'Harel and knowing that she yet lived, even if it was only a residual lifespark, would be comforting to him. _Not if it destroys time and space, _she told herself angrily, shoving down her guilt. "Saevin, how did a dead woman work her will through you?" he demanded, standing up with her.

"I can't tell you," she said hoarsely, coughing up residual bile. She hadn't reacted this violently to Flemythal's possession the first time, but then it had only been moments. This time had gone for longer and she had moved around much more.

"You can and you will- does… does she possess you? Does she live through your consumption of the well?" he asked, taking her shoulders. She shook her head violently, which didn't help the disorientation still throwing off her centre of balance.

"No! Of course not, she does not possess me," she spat. The very idea was absurd and made her feel more than a little guilty.

"That is exactly what you would say if she did possess you, though," he said stubbornly.

"Get your hands off of me _now _Dread Wolf," she insisted, shoving at him. It did little more than shift him slightly in place, but he obeyed her and didn't move to follow as she clumsily made her way back to the Keep. Guilt rolled in her stomach- she hadn't meant for their outing to end in such a way. In fact, moments prior she had meant for it to end with her riding his cock so hard that he forgot his own name. Dead mother figures had certainly spoiled that, and with fear in her fingers manifesting as royal purple lightning, she hurried towards Dorian.

Sex paled in comparison to the will of a god suddenly being thrust over her after two years of silence.

. . . . .

Solas awoke from his rest in the back of a wagon he had hired to take him to Skyhold. It was full of pilgrims- the sick and the weary and the sinful all flocking towards the woman they had claimed as Herald of their prophet. _It would be more accurate to call her _my _Herald, _he thought bitterly, and felt shame creep up his neck.

She would be afraid now, no doubt- the will of the goddess she still believed living being exercised after a very long dry spell for seemingly no reason. How was she to guess that Solas had absorbed Mythal's power and now put out her will in violent fits of jealousy?

What he had done had been _vile_, the exact thing that he had left the Inquisition to avoid. _Knowing _that he had to take on Mythal's power and _knowing _that the action would put Saevin into his service, he had fled. She could have helped him but the very concept that he could force her to had made him ill.

He had no right to do what he had- she had only moved to kiss _him _after all, and though for all Fen'Harel of Arlathan had in common with Solas of Thedas they could have been two different people, they were still technically the same consciousness. There had been no reason for Solas to pull Saevin away, especially considering the way he had left her.

_I regret who I will become, _Fen'Harel had said, and meant it so deeply in his chest that Solas felt years of self-doubt crawling into his memories. Events altered themselves in his mind and the pain of pulling himself away from Saevin in Crestwood became nigh unbearable as those words echoed in his mind. _I regret who I will become._

He threw his arm over his eyes, sighing loudly enough to alert a few of the pilgrims to his wakefulness. A dwarven woman offered him a crust of bread but he turned it down. _You are an old man who refuses himself any pleasure to punish yourself, and you wilfully hurt a woman who all but insisted upon your happiness because you hate that you were a better man for her back then. _

He jumped down from the wagon, forcing himself to walk along in the cold mountain air. The irony that he was punishing himself still, even in this action, was not lost upon him.

.

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one million apologies to chacer and sera whose scenes r always shorter and one trillion to bull and dorian who will have their date off screen.

thank you so much for all the reviews like im still so excited people like this and if u have any questions feel free to put em in a review or message me or w/e bc i usually know the answer.


	11. Chapter 11

Cha'cer paced back and forth in her room, anxiously eyeing her outfit for the feast. It was a tight and black (not unlike her other clothes), made of special dark samite cloth with little burst of violet phoenix scales sewed special to form tiny flames around the hems. There were no sleeves but a daringly low dip that ended just above her bellybutton. The skirt was long but split from her hips to the hem, and underneath it she wore tight black leathers. If it were any real social occasion she would have forgone pants underneath it all together and delighted in the way Fen's eyes moved to her creamy white skin like he was obligated to stare- unfortunately she was also playing bodyguard which meant that she might be grateful for pants before the night was out.

_Would Sera like it?_ Granted, it was pretty… fancy, but it was a special occasion and Fen had all but insisted upon everyone looking their best. They had gathered all the materials required for the tailors to work themselves (and fuck if the phoenix killing hadn't been a pain in the ass) and just because it was nice wouldn't mean Sera would _automatically _hate it.

The general sat down on her bed, exhaling heavily as if she were a punctured balloon. Feasts had never stressed her out so badly before. This one was special of course- June, Dirthamen, Falon'Din, and Sylaise all under one roof to actually discuss a partnership. Fen expected it to go south but he always expected the worst. Sylaise would be easy to convince and Cha'cer doubted that Dirthamen and Falon'din cared enough to take sides. They could go hide back in their fucking temples for all she cared. June would be difficult but the thing about June was that he was always difficult. He did it so someone would give a shit what he thought, if only for a moment.

"Cha'cer?" Fen leaned against the door, eyeing her dress where it hung in the window. His arms were full of flowers, and the general sneered playfully.

"Hey there Wolf-Boy. Are those for Sawdust?" she asked. He snorted but the tips of his ears turned red.

"Perhaps they were for you," he said shortly.

"Are they?"

"No. What are you doing?" he asked, gesturing towards the dress. She shrugged nervously, trying to relax her pose.

"Just… thinking. About the feast," she said nonchalantly. He nodded slowly. "And…" She had been tormenting herself over whether or not to tell Fen that she liked Sera. It was a stupid crush- Sera wasn't even in their timeline and would have to eventually leave- but the way the blonde laughed, the way she fought even without magic to aid her, the way she tilted her head and teasingly called Cha'cer _'general'_ and _'ohh, yes ma'am!' _to taunt her…

"And?" Fen prompted, placing the flowers on her vanity and sitting beside her. He took her hand and laced their fingers together, waiting patiently. _He's your best friend. You can tell him anything._

"Would… would Sera like the dress?" she blurted. He looked surprised. "I know it's stupid to care and I know she's probably not even gunna care one way or another but… _Fen _she's so great. When she fights she just… she moves so fast and she does this flipping thing I can't even describe it and all without a drop of mana in her blood!" It felt better to say it, but her chest grew cold when he stiffened beside her.

"I wonder if you watched _me _so closely," he teased, a sharp contrast to the tension in his shoulders. She frowned, an awkward breathy laugh puffing out of her lung involuntarily.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, dropping his hand.

"Only what I said. Were you as enamoured with me when we met, to watch my every movement?" he asked. She scowled.

"I watched you but it was a _little bit different _if you remember," she spat. He recoiled as if she had jumped at him- quite the opposite she was moving to the other side of the room, furious.

"Cha'cer-" he began.

"Just because I'm attracted to Sera doesn't mean that suddenly I'm _abandoning _you," she insisted, her voice tight and flat.

"Of course. I know that, _elgar'lin,"_ he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. She relaxed, slowly so that he knew he had to grovel a bit before she forgave him. "Forgive me, Cha'cer, I was over-reacting. I will admit, I am curious- do you still intend to bed her then forget her, or are you… serious, now?" he asked softly. She leaned back against him.

"I… I'm serious. I'm terrified but she's perfect. She's fun and beautiful and when I'm with her I can forget for a little while that everything is so damn life or death," she said, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Then I wish you luck," he said, and sounded _almost _as if he meant it. Terror that made her palms clammy echoed in the edges of his voice. _If I feel this way about someone else, what does that makes us?_ "And I believe she must like the outfit, and if she had any sense she would prefer it without your leather underneath as I would," he added, kissing her head.

She laughed and shoved him away, watching as he stood up to take the flowers in hand again. "What about Salmon?" she asked impulsively. It was a stupid question- Fen had been frustrated about her from day one, and being passably pretty wasn't enough to interest him for very long.

"_Saevin_, and…" he trailed off and Cha'cer felt her stomach clench.

"Fen?"

"What? She is pretty, clever, she listens well and…" he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "It is not the same thing," he insisted.

"So you're not serious?" she asked tersely. He grunted.

"I… might be."

"Then what the fuck is different?" she demanded, panic rising in her. It was one thing for her to _know _that her relationship with Sera wasn't the same as soul twins, but with him she couldn't know. She had absolutely no way of knowing if he didn't tell her and what if he never did? What if he kept her there as a back-up forever? Would she leave even if he admitted it or just stay, trailing behind him for an eternity until he found his stupid future-mage?

"It is… simply different I cannot describe it. Saevin is hardly the same as _Sera,"_ he insisted. Her eyes narrowed and he realized that he'd said the wrong thing. "Cha'cer I did not mean-"

"And just what the fuck is wrong with Sera?" she snapped.

_"Nothing, _I am only… Cha'cer it is just different," he insisted vainly. She made a noise in her throat akin to a growl, her fists clenched so tightly at her sides that she could feel her nails dig into the tender skin of her palm. Her back was ramrod straight and she _glared _at him, her mouth tight.

"So what, is she your new soul twin?" she asked quietly.

"Of course not!" he insisted, but _how would she know if he was lying?_

"Just another fucking rescue then? A cute little stray that used to be a slave? Are you gunna save her like you saved me, _my lord?"_ she asked, her voice snapping on the title. His eyes went wide and he shook his head.

"Cha'cer I would never-"

"Get out," she insisted.

"Cha'cer you have to listen-"

"Get. Out."

"You are _not _a rescue-" He finally stopped and listened to her when she let forth a burst of ice from her very pores, shocking him with the bite of winter against his skin. He seemed to understand, then, that she was _not _to be toyed with at that moment, and he bowed his head, grabbed his flowers, and fled the room.

Cha'cer didn't move from the spot she was standing in for what felt like an hour. When she finally moved, she headed straight for Sera.

. . . . .

Saevin looked at herself in the mirror with a little frown, spinning herself around to watch the dress move outwards. It was everknit wool green with king's willow weave gold flowers switched in small details. It has a simple sweetheart neck with long sleeves, and daring splits in the skirt that she was told mirrored General Cha'cer's.

She could see her white panties and wondered if that was appropriate for feasts with ancient elven gods.

She scowled and lifted the skirt up awkwardly. She was nervous and she had no reason to be- these people weren't gods, not really. They were petty and selfish and literally required an entire feast to make a decision about whether or not they were going to support _goodness_ and an end to fucking _slavery._

_Maybe I should just forego panties all together,_ she thought, pulling absently at the tops. It was less appropriate, sure, but it would demonstrate the proper level of irreverence that she wanted to feel…

_"Fenedhis, _I am sorry I did not expect-" Fen'Harel stood at the door with flowers bursting from his arms. She dropped her skirts and her hold on her smalls and put up her hands.

"It's all right, everything is fine… what are the flowers for?" she asked, cautiously approaching him. They hadn't spoken since the Mythal incident, which seemed to have been isolated. There had been no exercising of will beyond that and Dorian had assured her that it was probably nothing to worry about. She hadn't told him that she'd been intending to fuck the Dread Wolf, but she got the feeling that he was starting to get suspicious.

Fen'Harel straightened himself out and placed the flowers on one of the low tables in the room. "They are for you- you look lovely," he said, bowing his head. She curled her toes, her arms feeling paralyzed at her sides. "I will not lie, though, the flowers are to butter you up so you will tell me of Mythal's fate," he added.

She smiled and drew him over to sit on the edge of the futon with her. "I'm sorry. It's unfair of me to keep this information from you but I'm pretty sure this is the sort of thing with timeline consequences." She reached out and cupped his jaw again (he leaned into it which reminded her a little too strongly of the mabari hounds that some of the soldiers kept- she bit back a laugh). "I will tell you _one thing, _and after I tell you I want you to stop asking," she said firmly.

"What if I do not understand?" he asked quietly.

"You're a smart man, Fen'Harel, you'll get it. Are you ready?" she asked. He nodded. "All right. The one thing I can tell you about Mythal in the future is that she is not possessing _me,"_ she said, putting a very careful emphasis on herself. He frowned and mouthed it a few times.

"But she is possessing someone?" he asked. She rolled her eyes.

"I said I was telling you one thing," she reminded him. She was surprised when he jerked her into his arms, squeezing her so tightly she thought his arms would break her. They were silverite like Solas' were, hard and stronger than they appeared.

_"Ma serannas, da'vin," _he whispered into her neck, pressing a soft kiss there. She felt herself turning red again and laughed nervously.

"Quit it, you're making me blush," she scolded, pushing his hair away from his neck. He certainly had a lot of it and she wondered if it fell out after all those years or if he shaved it. _I doubt it fell out- if elves were immortal I doubt they could go bald with aging._

"You are always blushing," he murmured, pulling away. He didn't go very far, but enough that they were speaking face to face. "I could spend centuries making you blush," he added quietly. She breathed out a laugh, then paused.

"I'm not immortal," she blurted. He frowned.

"Pardon?"

"I'm not… immortal." In fact, she was several hundred years younger than him. If that was a concern she wanted to raise it while she still believed herself capable of walking away.

He was quiet for a long time, but he didn't falter in his hold on her. "How… long?" he asked quietly. "A-Are you expected to live, that is." She shrugged her shoulders, gnawing her lip.

"It… depends, really. The average Dalis- the average uhm. Clan elf, we live out in the woods… and Keepers usually have a longer- shit, I mean our leaders-"

"Dalish. Keeper. I do not know these words," he said curiously.

"You won't either, not for a while. Just… I can expect a healthy… ninety?" she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"You said you were older than that already," he accused quietly.

"I lied, didn't I?" she returned shortly. He frowned.

"Ninety… that cannot… _da'vin _it take some flowers one hundred years to bloom. You could not possibly _die _before that," he insisted. She shrugged.

"I age like a human, Fen. I'm sorry I lied but don't worry too much. I still have a while to go, hopefully," she said with an encouraging smile. He wore a strange expression suddenly and she blushed.

"How old are you then?" he asked. She smiled nervously.

"Twenty-five?" His eyes grew round and he shook his head. She tried to pretend like that had been the reaction she had expected and shifted away from him a little. He refused to let her move, though, which was comforting at the same time that it was mildly uncomfortable.

"That does not make sense. You do not have the body of a twenty-five year old," he insisted stubbornly. She snorted.

"I've heard that one before. I _know_ I look young-"

"You do not look young _enough_. Elven development periods are longer than human ones. At twenty-five most elven girls are still developing their breasts," he said, shock evident as his eyes pulled over her. _That's the first time anyone's thought I was older than I am. _Her eyebrows raised and she mulled over that for a while. It sort of made sense- longer lives probably allowed for a longer development. Perhaps the longer development was what contributed to the widespread magical talent in the ancient elven community…

"Creators, that would make elven puberty twice as long," she said sharply, clapping her hand over her mouth. He raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Oh that would be _awful_. I mean eternal life would be nice, never growing old but... _fenedhis,_ twice the puberty is a high price," she giggled.

"You have very strange priorities,_"_ he teased.

"_You _had twenty years of acne and growing pains," she returned.

"I cannot imagine that you had very much trouble with growing pains, _**da**__'vin,_" he said sweetly. She shoved his chest and he rolled her over to toss her back on the futon. She laughed but anxiously scrambled to rework her dress so that it didn't wrinkle.

He leaned overtop of her and her nervous hands stilled. "Fen?" she asked quietly.

"You _are _considered an adult among your people, yes?" he murmured.

"Yes, I have my _vallaslin,"_ she returned. He frowned. "Or I had it. They consider _vallaslin _the mark of adulthood, and I got mine when I was fifteen. Even among the _shem_ I'm... well I'm young, but I've been an adult for a long time. Cross my heart," she said, reaching up to touch his face.

"I will not presume to judge you by _Elvhenan's _standards. _I_ am a child by their standards and you... will not be able to reach their standards," he shook his head. "I am not going to think about that right now, though." He leaned down and kissed her forehead, where _vallaslin_ used to come to a peak.

"You've never met a mortal?" she asked as he moved back.

"Never one that I wanted to be immortal as badly as I wish that you were," he whispered. She smiled.

"Thanks, I guess." He kissed down her temples, then her jaw.

"I could raise you," he said against the ticklish spot under her ear. She shifted to put his hips between her legs, playing idly with his soft hair. He had no decoration for it yet, but she imagined it would come a little later. She liked the little jewels catching the light in his dark hair, and the way that they could flare with iridescent colour against his dreads.

"What does that mean?" she asked faintly as he moved down her neck.

"Make you a god," he whispered from her collarbone. She jolted upwards and he jerked in surprise, sitting up.

"No!" she insisted loudly. He grinned nervously.

"Why not? You'd be immortal and incomprehensibly powerful. _Asha'vin, Dar'uth,"_ he said.

"I don't want to be!" she said loudly. "I already have a fucking army, I don't _want_ anything else. I don't even want that!" She was panicking so he pushed his hand through her hair.

"Relax, Saevin, I will not force it on you," he said gently. "I will offer it to you, but it is hardly obligatory." She sighed shortly, but shook her head nonetheless. "I still think you would make a wonderful _Asha'vin_," he added.

"What was your name before _Fen'harel?"_ she asked, trying to coax him back to lay on her. It took very little prompting for him to begin sucking her throat again, dragging his teeth against her skin with much more enthusiasm than before.

"What makes you think that it has not always been my name?" he asked, pulling away.

"Your parents named you 'wolf, noble rebellion'?" she asked skeptically. He laughed.

"My parents abandoned me at the Temple of Mythal. I left as soon as I learned enough of the Fade to know that I had to travel if I wished to see more, and when I was confident I would not die within the week," he said, watching her curiously from her chest.

"What did the people at the Temple call you?" she asked.

"_Boy_, like all the other hopeful Sentinels. When I travelled and learned of what life was like outside of Mythal's comparatively peaceful haven, I named myself and began to study," he explained

"Why _Fen'Harel?"_ He grinned and moved back up to her face.

"The rebellion part is obvious, but the wolf? I was yet young. Wolves fascinated me, and they were the first animal that I learned to shift to. It is... embarrassing to remember how hurt I was when I realized that the packs knew me as an outsider," he admitted. She tried to choke back a laugh, cooing at him and kissing his nose instead.

"That's precious," she told him.

"Do not remind me. Luckily I did not meet anyone of substance until I had grown up a bit," he said, shaking his head.

"So the fact that you're the Dread Wolf now was just a coincidence?" she asked. He shrugged helplessly, sitting her up to settle on his lap.

"It was a fluke either way- usually the gods turn into dragons, but my form was altered by my hasty theft of it from Ghilan'nain. You are very interested in me- does the future forget the foolish wolf god?" he asked. She snorted.

"No, we remember you. You are... " she shook her head. "We remember, I promise. When I was young I used to be in charge of carting the little wolf statue we kept for you in a wagon when our clan moved," she said, pushing away the odd feeling as if she were repeating herself. She'd told Solas that story as well.

"That… _that _is precious," he said, running his hands up the slits in her skirt to feel her thighs. She flushed so sharply that they turned red in his hands and he laughed. "You do seem to turn awfully pink when I touch you," he teased.

"Why do you say that like I don't know?" she asked, putting her forehead on his shoulder so he couldn't see her face. He nipped the tip of her ear and she made a uniquely humiliating whining noise and tightened her thighs on his waist. "You did that on purpose," she accused.

"Of course I did. One hardly accidentally bites another's ear, just as I would hardly _accidentally _kneel between your legs and-"

_"Fen!"_ She was almost certain that she was going to die.

"I apologize," he said immediately, but the warm laugh that rumbled through his chest indicated otherwise. "I am merely an enthusiast and you have very nice legs so I only wonder at what they would look like thrown over my shoulders with my tongue-"

"You're impossible," she groaned, lifting her head to look at him.

He pressed his mouth against hers, cupping her face to hold her there. An electric burst ran across her body and he wrapped his arm around her to pull her against him more fully. When it became obvious that she wasn't going to bolt, he dropped both hands to her ass (squeezing in a much less subtle manner than Solas ever had) while she buried her hands in his hair and pulled him closer, slipping her tongue into his mouth as his lips parted and straightening up to kneel so she could tilt his head up and kiss down.

She pulled away only to calm herself down- she was shaking and she wanted to rip off tunic he wore and bring his smalls to his knees with her _teeth-_ and he ruined her brief meditation by leaving a hard, dark hickey on her neck, urging her down to rub against the burgeoning erection he sported. "Fen we shouldn't- not now," she said even as she shoved her hand against his chest to push him back so he could _watch _her grind down against him.

"You-," he paused, enchanted by her motions as she'd intended, "-you make a poor case for stopping, but if you would prefer-" he grabbed her hips and bucked his upwards. "-Tell me to stop and I will," he blurted as quickly as he could.

She pulled back, sitting on his thighs and shutting her eyes. There was a soft snarl on his part that almost broke her, and she dug her nails into his thighs. The snarl turned to a whimper that tested her harder than before, and she snapped his name under her breath. "You should get ready for your feast," she breathed, then jolted. "Is my dress okay?" she asked.

"I would prefer if it hung on the hanger at this _very_ moment, but besides that it is fine. Better for the privilege of being on you," he said faintly. She laughed quietly, moving off of his lap and he sighed wearily and lifted himself off the bed, straightening his clothes. "I will see you at the feast?" he asked.

"Yes," she breathed, gnawing her lip. He grinned and moved over to kiss her, slow and deep like Solas always had. He pressed a quick peck against her forehead before turning and sweeping out of the room.

Carefully, Saevin lifted her dress over her head and hung it back up. It was blessedly unwrinkled and she turned to lock the door before sliding her fingers down her smalls and teasing the wetness he'd left her with, with a muffled moan of frustration.

. . . . .

Cha'cer finally found Sera in a tiny little nook of a room with a large window and little else. The general had thought that _she _was the only person who knew of the place, but the tall and lovely rogue had found it nonetheless, which shouldn't really have surprised her. Sera was curled up by the window and staring, only turning her head to nod at Cha'cer before looking out at the mountains again. "Sera?" Cha'cer approached her slowly, sitting down next to her.

"Look you ever like… you ever like get to a place that finally isn't shit, after you been to all the places that fucking were shit, and you're like _oh well this is nice I could do to stay here_ but then all the sudden you ain't there and it's like…" She glared out the window, until her frown melted into something sadder.

"You're… homesick?" Cha'cer asked hesitantly. Sera shrugged.

"Don't get me wrong like this place is all right. Better than I fuckin' thought it would be, all elfy and shit, but like. You're an elfy-elf and you ain't bad, you're fun right? You're fun like Sae's fun except… except that's different too," she said, bringing her knees to her chest.

"Yeah I've… _heard _that she's different," Cha'cer said shortly. Sera shook her head.

"She ain't different because I _like _like her, she's different because I _like _like you," she said. "But we're doing all this weird dancing around shite and I don't know if you _like _like me too," she added with a sullen little turn of her mouth.

"I like like you a lot, Sera," Cha'cer said earnestly, surprised by her own boldness. "I like like how strong you are and how fast you are and the way you snort when you laugh and-"

"Shut up, Andraste you'll go on forever won'tcha," she scolded, but had a big grin on her face. "I like like you too because you're fun even though you're in this place with Fen who isn't fun and never will be fun even when we meet him and his name's Solas he's like the anti-fun. But you make shit fun and you're fit and…" she trailed off and shrugged. "Ain't a lot not to like about you anyway."

Heart pounding, Cha'cer reached out and pulled Sera against her. The blonde rolled herself into a comfortable position against the general's chest, holding her hands across her stomach. Almost in a daze, Cha'cer leaned down and kissed her head, leaving a silly smear of black-purple lipstick in her hair. "I'm… this is great," she said reverently, squeezing Sera against her. The rogue snorted.

"I can do better y'know if you take your smalls off," she suggested with a grin. Cha'cer felt her ears turn pink, all the way across her face until the tip of her nose. Sera grinned, rolling over and kissing that spot.

"After the feast," Cha'cer said breathily. "For now maybe I could just…" She pulled Sera's hips towards hers and pressed a few sticky lipstick kisses down Sera's neck. Sera giggled until she snorted and Cha'cer's mind whirled. _At the party I'll sweep her off her feet- fuck Fen and fuck the gods, I'll dance with her and kiss her and shred her tunic into so many pieces it'll be unsalvageable…_

She didn't realize she'd been biting down gently until Sera breathed out a hot little moan that made Cha'cer's ears burn. _After the Feast, _she reminded herself, pulling Sera's face down to press kisses against her cheeks. She didn't move towards her mouth yet- _save it for a dip kiss, twirl her around the dancefloor like you're both drunk then dip her and kiss her so deep she's hanging onto you for dear life._

As Sera grinned and settled back down against her, Cha'cer wrapped herself around her and settled her chin against the crook of Sera's neck. She had never been more excited for a party in her entire life.

.

..

...

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...

gosh im so sorry this took like for fucking ever this chapter was kicking my ASS like gosh words just refused to happen. everyone excited about everyone kissing (or almost kissing in cha'sera's case?). everyone excited for the party?

also if u like fenris (and who doesnt like fenris) and also like rogues who will kick your ass but are literally so hot u'd thank them for it, go read Champion by Ingredient X! it's incomplete but wrapping up soon and updates on a lot more reliable basis than this does.


	12. Chapter 12, Part One

Saevin stood next to Sera on the battlements, peering down curiously at the front gate. "Can you see shit?" Sera asked, leaning precariously over the edge to get a better look at the procession. The sun was wavering in the sky casting everything in a fiery orange-pink, and hordes of slaves were coming through the gate to place offerings at Fen'Harel's feet. She couldn't see him well, but she could see his Divinity licking at the air like flames. It was enough to tell that he was displeased by the show.

"He looks pissed," Saevin said, pulling the rogue back so she didn't tumble over the edge.

"Almost as pissed as Cha'cer," Sera agreed, pointing down at the general who switched between pacing furiously and redirecting the slaves to the stables. "Why'd they fuckin' bother to show up at all if they were just gunna spit on 'em?" she asked irritably.

"Why did the Orlesians do it to us? Because they can, and because they want to be romanced into a pact," Saevin said, her skin crawling at the very thought of the nobility that had called her _foreign_ in nature and _exotic._ She was a fucking elf, not a jungle cat from Seheron.

"Is your boyfriend gunna give 'em an earful?" Sera asked teasingly. Saevin flushed all the way down to her hips (all visible, since she had decided to forego smalls).

"Sera," she grumbled. "He isn't- I have no idea what his plan is."

"Hickey on your neck says otherwise," Sera sang. Saevin clapped her hand against her throat, flushed furiously.

"I don't think he was expecting this, otherwise he wouldn't look so angry. And you have a hickey too," she snapped. Sera grinned proudly.

"I do too- one in between my tits too, but she said she wanted to _romance_ me before we bumped bits," she said, waving her hand vaguely in the air. "Like I'm a friggen princess."

"You don't want to be romanced?" Saevin asked, watching as the procession slowed and the last of the slaves were being corralled.

"I don't mind. No one ever _wanted _to romance me before, dunno what she's planning. She's like wha, five hundred though? Gotta be good with her tongue and I'd be a fuckin' liar if I said I weren't curious," she said with a crooked grin. Saevin turned violently red as she remembered Fen'Harel teasing her about oral. "Ohhhh, did our little Inky find out how good fuckin' ancient tongue can get?" Sera sang.

"No! No, he just-" She cut herself off as she felt the presence of other Divine powers. The air crackled with electricity and strange magic that pulled at the mana in her blood. Her heart sped up.

"Don't like this feeling," Sera said with a wavering voice.

"It's just like Solas' magic," she said soothingly. "It's only the Divinity."

"Yeah but Solas don't keep slaves and he don't keep the weird god-magic on all the time," she insisted. "And he ain't even Solas, not properly, so like. How are we supposed to know he ain't sketchy either? How are we s'posed to know _Solas_ ain't sketchy, ain't like he told us his real name or who he was and that was _kind of fucking important,"_ she snapped.

"He didn't tell us because he was surrounded by Andrastians that were pretty steadfast about the one true Maker- revealing himself would have been counterproductive to that rumour that I was the Herald of the Prophet, and downright dangerous in front of Cassandra or Leliana. I was also a Dalish elf who wouldn't have believed him, or if I had I would have insisted he be removed because I was a prick," she said evenly. _Not that I've thought about this or anything._

"Yeah well, still kind of shitty to get on our good sides and he even rang your bell a few times. Ain't right to do that and not tell someone who you are, even worse if you know they wouldn't fuck you if they knew," she grumbled. Saevin snorted.

"I... I've thought about that and I've decided that I don't really care. He had his reasons and I was rather insistent," she said with a shrug.

"It ain't your fault!" Sera said vehemently. Saevin put up her hands, peering down to see the figures cloaked in Divinity. Purple, yellow, orange, and green.

"I know, I only mean that I'm glad he did. I don't regret what happened." The figures began to move towards the main hall so Saevin shoved Sera back towards the rotunda where they would wait. "Let's see what the gods want from us, all right?" she asked.

"Speak for yourself- mine ain't a god," Sera groused.

"Not what I was talking about dear."

. . . . .

Fen'Harel was _resplendent_. He was draped in gauzy forest green fabric with dark bark brown clasps and foot wraps. A thin golden diadem rested on his forehead with heavy green jewels shivering against his skin. The addition of his sea-blue Divinity made looking at him feel like Saevin was underwater, and she wanted to put her hands on him. She wanted to trace the muscles on his stomach and arms and pushed the thin, transparent fabric that covered his broad shoulders down until it pooled on the floor in a gossamer pile.

He caught her staring and grinned at her. His Divinity brushed at her ankles where they were stretched under the table, then higher up to trace at the sensitive inside of her thigh. She jolted and scowled which made him laugh, but he dismissed the wisps that bothered her. She flushed and turned her attention back to the end of the table where the other gods sat, trying to reestablish her calm. Dirthamen, Falon'din, June, and Sylaise.

Sylaise was so beautiful that it hurt to look at her. She had glimmering skin blacker than obsidian and large, round eyes like polished onyx. Her hair stuck out in tight curls, forming a pretty earth-brown cloud that just barely brushed her shoulders. Her dress was long and canary yellow with no back but tight sleeves that ended neatly at her elbows. Her Divinity did not dance like the others, but glowed in a sunrise orange from her skin as she fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat, eyes darting from the twins to Fen'Harel.

The twins were… massively unsettling. They mirrored each other in every action, even when it unnecessary. When Falon'din lifted his arm to push back his hair, Dirthamen did so as well. They were both thin to the point of ghoulishness, with long jagged yellow nails and skin so thin and sallow that it was almost transparent. Their eyes were the same shade of glassy, watered-down grey and they even looked at the same things. They both wore heavy black velvet robes and had their thin, lank, dusty brown hair hanging heavily on their shoulders. The man on the left radiated purple, while his twin radiated yellow, both in heavy and disorienting pulses with no discernable pattern.

June reminded Saevin of Blackwall with his thick black beard and long black hair, broad shoulders and wide chest. He had dark, hooded eyes and skin the colour of desert sand. His arms and hands were covered in burns and scars- from the forge, Saevin assumed- and he didn't even bother to hide the blatantly unfriendly scowls he shot at the Dread Wolf. He hadn't worn anything fancier than his blacksmith's tunic, to the point where he still wore the apron covered in soot. His Divinity was green and kept tightly against his skin.

"Those creepy twins are staring at you," Sera whispered to her. Saevin shushed her harshly, panic rising in her throat- Dirthamen was the keeper of secrets, possibly. He would know if they were being irreverent. _He probably knows you aren't wearing underwear._

The table setting for the event was skewed ever so slightly, with Fen'Harel and Cha'cer sitting up at the high table alone, looking down on the secondary level. The lower table was headed by Sylaise, June, and the twins, but faced Fen'Harel and his general. This put Saevin and Sera seated awkwardly to the left of their hosts, tucked into an inconspicuous corner, but that hardly deterred the Dread Wolf from sending soft little wisps of his Divinity towards her to brush against her skin.

He was _supposed _to be ignoring them, but had also warned her in advance that his concentration while Divine was very poor. _I am like to forget- remind me if you are uncomfortable, but otherwise do not trouble yourself with the gods noticing. They already believe me barely more than a beast, so it will not shock them if I am distracted._

He certainly was distracted. When Sylaise tried to get his attention, she had to call his name three times. His head jerked back to the goddess and he smiled winningly, apologizing. "Should we not invite our sisters here as well?" she asked in her deep voice. It was the smoothest sound Saevin had ever heard, like icing being spread on a hot sweetroll.

"Elgar'nan, Andruil, and Ghilan'nain have made their choices, sister. If they came for peace I would allow their entry, but as it stands they do not," he assured her. She bowed her head and went back to staring at her plate, shoving the small chunks of steak she had around in some invisible pattern.

"There are new faces here," June said, his voice like the shaking of thaigs. He would have made a wonderful dwarf- Saevin couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen an elf with a proper beard. It wasn't impossible for elven men to grow one, but simply took so long that it was hardly worth the discomfort of stubble.

"There are always new faces- those of liberated slaves and like-minded free citizens," Fen'Harel returned smoothly.

"Aye, but you don't stare at all of them as you do these ones," June said smugly. Saevin tensed and busied herself with food, reaching out for a warm bun and the small dish of butter that was near her plate.

The Dread Wolf shrugged easily. "Is it bothering you, brother?" Fen asked pleasantly.

"I take offence to you making eyes at a waif that's been marked for me," he snapped. Saevin started so hard that she was sure she broke something, but quickly reprioritized herself to holding Sera down. "I can see my magic on her, lingering. What right have you?" the god continued.

Fen'Harel stood and Saevin pinched Sera hard enough to make her yelp. "If she offends you, brother, I will remove her from your sight," he said agreeably, and Saevin deflated. _Good._ She couldn't take another second of June glaring holes in her face and the uncomfortable feeling it gave her skin.

The Dread Wolf walked down to her and offered her his hand, which she took gratefully. She stood from the table and ruffled Sera's hair before hurrying the Wolf away from the prying eyes of the gods. Once they were well enough away, she let her shoulders droop in relief. "I'm sorry," she said, turning to him. "I didn't know he'd be able to tell I had his _vallaslin,"_ she said.

He kissed her and she stood on her toes to reach him, throwing her arms over his shoulders as his tongue slipped past her lips. "It is not your fault," he told her quietly, hardly breathing the words before kissing her again. "I would have you return after dinner so he knows that I will not be bullied, but before that I will send someone with more food if you wish."

"Please," she said, trying to resist the urge to wrap herself around him. He pulled himself away, standing with his hands behind his back as if the mere act of touching her would undo him.

"After this is all over," he promised. "Once they all leave, we will not be interrupted."

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently, tracing the infuriating waist of his pants and dipping her fingers below it to drag him close.

She was against the wall in an instant and his thigh dragged between her legs as he kissed her so deeply that he caught her surprised grunts in his throat before she even realized what was happening. She ground herself against his leg as his hideously intangible Divinity licked against her curiously.

Before she was even aware enough to grab his hair, he was away from her again and his Divinity was pooling around him obediently. "After," he promised softly.

"After," she echoed with a smile.

. . . . .

It was incredibly difficult to exert Mythal's will- _his _will now, he supposed- and still retain enough focus to watch her in the past. He was uniquely powerful, however, especially in the months following the destruction of the orb. The residual power that had not been repurposed by Saevin or Corypheus had returned to Solas a few days after the Magister's defeat.

She was sitting in the room she shared with the others, reading a book in elven and absently chewing on a piece of bread. He inhaled deeply, then willed her onto her feet and over to a desk. She reached out and took a quill at his behest and began to write on some spare paper.

_Vhenan, it is Solas. In the future. Let me help you come home._

He dropped his will and sighed. It had been difficult to use her to write, but the idea had come to him during one of his shame fits after refusing her the kiss with Fen'Harel. If he could see her and exercise his will over her still, then he could potentially communicate with her.

She read the paper, frowning. "How do I know that's true?" she asked aloud. He took her over again, his neck burning with guilt.

_In Crestwood you grew angry with me when I told you that the _vallaslin _were slave markings. You asked me if there was anything I would not tear down just to prove how smart I am. _He paused, then continued. _I was going to tell you then- about me, about _him, _everything that you did not know. I was a coward though, who feared your hatred… then I meant to forget him altogether and truly live as Solas, as yours. That would have been… dishonest, to myself and to you. So I did the only thing I felt was right and it has tormented me every day since I left._

He dropped his will so she could read it and he watched her frown. That was a fair reaction. He hadn't meant to drop all of that onto her but… he was being selfish again. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly. He wrote her out a short _fine, Saevin_, knowing fully well that it wasn't an end to her questions. "Why are you using Mythal's will?"

_Mythal is dead and I absorbed her power. Please do not tell Fen'Harel. _She looked surprised. _He is a child for whom Mythal's death is still fresh and raw. He has been placated by your promise of her residual lifespark, but could be crushed with the knowledge that he will be the one to finally end her. Please, _vhenan.

"I'm sorry about Mythal, Solas," she said quietly, and he exhaled unevenly. _I would speak of something else. _Like she always did, she complied. "Can you see everything that happens here?" she asked nervously. He smiled humorlessly, though she couldn't have seen it.

_You mean to ask me if I just saw you and my younger self against the wall? _She clenched the paper in her hands, looking at the ceiling as if to meet his eye. He was more… well, his view came from behind her, as if he stood at her back to look over her shoulder. It was easier to write this way.

"I… I'll stop if you want me to," she said meekly. He huffed. He had never liked the way she gave in so easily, a trait ingrained in her by the Dalish.

_I could hardly think of a reason for you to stop. We are both willing and so long as you are very careful I see no reason you should deny yourself. _He meant that honestly, after days of self-reflection and beratement. He had no reason to deny Fen'Harel what he had given up himself, especially because he would lose her when she finally came home.

"If you control Mythal's will, then it was you in the glade. He was going to kiss me and you stopped it," she said accusingly. He shifted, his concentration almost wavering.

_It was. I apologize. It was… jarring to see you with someone I no longer recognize as myself. It was petty and will not be repeated, I promise. _It was a poor apology, but she accepted it. _Now I contacted you for a reason, Saevin. I want to help you come home._

"Can I ask one more question?" she asked tentatively.

_Of course._

"If you only left because you didn't think I'd be okay with the Dread Wolf thing, then does that mean you're going to stay when I get back?"He froze, his focus wavering as he considered her question. She shifted back and forth as time dragged on, and was about to say something when Solas took her over.

_I do not know, Saevin. I am sorry. Now, if you would tell me what happened before you were thrown back into the past, I will try and figure out what went wrong,_ he wrote hastily. She read the paper and her face fell- and that hurt, terribly, but he wouldn't dare raise her hopes- but she quickly shoved it aside.

"All right, we were playing around in the training yard and Dorian said that maybe we could make my Mark of the Rift spell more powerful if he corrupted the source with fire-" she was cut off as he took her over furiously.

_And just what part of that sounded like a good idea?_

She smiled crookedly as she read it, shrugging. "I don't know. We were having fun and our resident magical Fade expert kind of abandoned us to our own devices-"

_You could not puzzle out 'do not blast fire into the core of your volatile orb magic' by yourselves?_

"Quit with your fucking tone! How were we supposed to know?" she demanded angrily.

_I do not have a tone I am __**writing **__to you._

"You have a tone, I can practically hear your snotty voice. It's the same voice you used every time Sera made you angry too," she accused. He took a moment to centre himself, breathing as evenly as he could manage.

_ Well in the future, your Fade expert is telling you __**not to do that**__._

"Well in the future my Fade expert shouldn't disappear after a battle with a god without even saying goodbye," she snapped. He exhaled, properly cowed but still irritated that they had fallen to such folly. What if they had died? What if the orb had exploded and killed them?

_I apologize. What happened after he used his fire on the source?_

"Everything turn vomit green and burst. I hit my head off of the ground so I'm not sure what exactly… happened. If you wait a little while I can get a hold of one of the others and ask them," she said sullenly.

_No need. I already have a few suspicions about what may have happened. I will be in touch, _vhenan.

"You say that. One more question before you leave- did you know, the whole time, what was happening? The orb and Corypheus- did you give your orb to Corypheus?" she asked. He scowled, internally scolding himself. Of course she would come to that conclusion.

_I did not. I awoke without my orb altogether, and resolved myself to find it. I was untroubled- it could not be opened by anyone alive. There was no being left in Thedas or outside of it powerful enough to even crack it- I had not considered Ancient Blighted Magisters being attracted to the call of it in my sleeping arms. I prioritized the Conclave when I heard of it, troubled by the Chantry's complete and utter butchering of everything Andraste had ever stood for, and when it exploded with _my magic _I realized that I had made an error in judgement._

She frowned as she read it, but it melted into something akin to relief. "I thought that you'd… nevermind. Don't worry about it. Tell me what you're thinking in regards to getting us home."

. . . . .

Cha'cer threw her carefully laid plans into action right when Fen went to retrieve his precious little Sinkhole from the room she was hidden in (he still hadn't apologized for his shitty comments about Sera). The blonde was shifting awkwardly in her seat as the servants cleared everything away, and Cha'cer stepped down from the platform, clearing her throat.

This was phase one- she knew she looked good. She knew she looked better than good because she'd seen the way Sylaise had glued her eyes to her all night. She had decided to abandon the leathers that went underneath the dress- they made the whole thing look awkward and bumpy anyway- so when she stepped down her alabaster thigh was put on display for the room to see, stark against the void black of her dress.

And Sera noticed.

Cha'cer could hardly contain herself as Sera's eyes glued themselves to her, grinning as Cha'cer walked over and offered her a hand up. Sera took it and dragged the general over to her, throwing her arms around her hips. _Spirits _but Sera had great breasts. "Let's go somewhere private while they set up," she murmured, cupping Sera's also fantastic ass in her hands.

"You got it ma'am," she teased, twining their fingers together. Cha'cer grinned and led her out past the gods who stood together in a tight huddle, apparently arguing with each other. The spy in her was curious, but she let it drop- they could be arguing about anything, really, and Cha'cer had a beautiful woman leading her up the stairs and onto the balcony.

Sera leaned in but Cha'cer took the kiss on her cheek instead, shoving her lightly. "Romance, remember?" she asked, hoisting herself up on the railing and wrapping her legs around her rogue.

"Ain't kissin' romantic?" Sera asked sullenly, moving down to suck at her throat. Cha'cer may have tightened her thighs and may have had to physically restrain herself, but she was determined.

"It's very romantic, but it's the most romantic when the first comes after a long night of dancing and champagne…" she trailed her fingers down Sera's spine, yelping when the rogue bit the tip of her ear.

"We gunna be proper romantic in front of all those people?" she asked. She sounded excited. "Like really real dancin' and shite?"

"Of course. What good is it if we're having a great time and don't get to rub it in those noble fucker's faces?" she asked, pulling Sera back so she could pet her pretty round cheeks. They were stained with red and she was grinning so big and wide that Cha'cer's heart sped up. _After the party, after the party, then you get to kiss her numb, _she reminded herself.

"S'like they don't think you can have fun without breakin' a bank somewhere. Also can't remember if I said or not but you look… you look all... " Her face grew redder and she slid her hands across Cha'cer's smooth white legs. "You look great, ma'am."

Their foreheads were touching and Cha'cer was on the brink of abandoning her plans to tease a kiss out of Sera later. "You do too, _princess,"_ she said with a laugh, reaching up to cup her jaw. Sera wrinkled her nose.

"_Princess_? Really?"

"Fits you just about as well as _ma'am _fits me," she pointed out.

"Wha'ever, just sayin'-" She was cut off by Fen'Harel's booming voice starting in on his stupid speech and the band beginning to play. The music wasn't loud enough for Cha'cer's taste, and she usually preferred more drums than lutes, but she figured she might grow to like it a little if it meant she had Sera's body glued to hers.

Sera bolted down the stairs after Cha'cer and when they got on the dance floor she pulled the general close and looped her arms around her waist. Cha'cer was in the unique position of getting to rest her head against Sera's chest, grinning so hard she couldn't stop herself. She could hear the steady thumping of Sera's heart, the beat of the drum the music lacked, and the way the rogue's body thrummed excitedly as eyes fell onto them.

"No one's ever done this with me before, yeah? I mean they all think I'm too fuckin' dense to notice that I'm a side dish, right? Like _ohh, the stupid elf what talks funny would never guess that I'm fuckin' the barmaid too_ or they get all uptight like _Sera not in public you can't talk 'bout dick in public_," Sera chattered, running her fingers across Cha'cer's ribs.

"Assholes," she snorted in response. Her eyes slipped shut and she squeezed Sera's waist. "You're the fucking best, and if they don't see it then fuck 'em. More awesome for us," she said, looking up earnestly. Sera snorted nervously and kissed Cha'cer's nose.

"You're doin' that weird sweet thing again," she teased, spinning her around. The general grinned, catching sight of her _elgar'lin _in his throne with Saevin chattering away at his feet. By the way he was running his fingers through her hair and staring it was mildly obvious that her sitting on the floor hadn't been his plan.

She forgave him, she realised, as Sera spun her down and dipped her low. If Sauerkraut was anything like Sera, funny, _incredible _Sera… then she was happy for Fen. Just like that the dark, angry thing she had been holding inside of herself- because being angry at Fen of all people was always dark- was banished and replaced with silly little smooches all over her face.

They danced like that for what felt like hours- when the music spend up Cha'cer showed off with little hip wiggles and Sera laughed so hard at her gall that she almost doubled over. When it slowed down they moved to each other as if they were being magnetically pulled that way, their bodies locking together in such harmony that it made Cha'cer warm all over.

They would pause for drink, Sera preferring the dark red wine (and adored teasing everyone else who drank it as too high strung) while Cha'cer could drink bottles worth of bubbling Arlathan champagne and hardly lose her footing (though it gave her the excuse to bump into the most beautiful rogue at the party whenever she wanted). Sera would occasionally hold out a finger food for her- usually strawberries- and Cha'cer would run her tongue along it and be sure to lick the tips of Sera's fingers ever so slightly. The rogue always laughed and turned bright red.

Dancing was the most exciting though. Nothing beat being so close to Sera that the thrumming of their blood was in sync and every laugh echoed through their chests in unison, and nothing beat swinging each other a little too close to dancing nobles or just near enough to knock another couple over. Cha'cer couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard with anyone- Fen's war had mellowed him out terribly and there had never been time for laughter when she was a slave. Sera was laughter and light and Cha'cer was drunk on her aura.

Also, Sera liked to dip her.

Cha'cer wrapped her leg around Sera's waist and lifted them both to stand straight. She leaned in until she could taste the wine on Sera's breath then kissed her, finally, fully, right on her sweet pouty lips. The rogue was shocked and stood still for half a second before she returned the kiss like a storm, one hand reaching down to tug Cha'cer closer by her ass and the other one feather-light on the back of her neck as if she were going to pull away.

Tongue met tongue frantically and Cha'cer stood on her toes to get a better angle. Sera's mouth made all the wet kissing noises that the general had dreamed of and she dug her nails ever so slightly into Cha'cer's bare thighs. A breathy moan and they were both almost careening over a table covered in drinks- Sera righted them quickly and urged her towards the stairs that led to their balcony again.

She wasted no time once they had scrambled up, hoisting the general onto the railing again and kissing her soundly. Her hands went _everywhere_, exploring the flat planes of her chest and the bare expanse of hips and thigh. Cha'cer hands weren't idle either, stroking the tease of hardened nipple on Sera's chest and nipping at her tongue.

Sera pulled away first, panting. She almost looked sad, which would have alarmed Cha'cer if not for the breathless smile that bloomed. "Listen I ain't great with all the love-y dove-y shite, and I ain't good with sayin' what I'm feelin' so everyone gets it right? But you," she kissed her again, slow and sucking and over far too soon, "are fuckin' incredible. And if it means I got to meet you I don't even give half a shit that Sae and Dorian punched time in the cock again."

"Waiting for you to be born is going to kill me," Cha'cer groaned. "You know how long three thousand years is?"

"Pft, and that's just Saevin's best guess at time. Who knows how long you're gunna be dickin' 'round waiting for yours truly?" she asked.

"Guess I better make the best of right now then, shouldn't I?" Cha'cer whispered, leaning in again. She couldn't get enough of her rogue, never enough of Sera's kisses or her laugh or her smile or the way she mimicked people that annoyed her or the way she was so brave she shot an arrow into a god without even blinking…

An explosion rocked the building so hard that the general would have toppled off the edge if not for Sera's hold on her. Cha'cer stomach dropped and she straightened herself quickly, taking Sera's hand. "Let's go find you a bow," she said quickly.

"What the fuck is it now?" Sera demanded.

"Things just went south."

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all right so on tumblr i said that this chapter was LONG. and it is. this isn't the whole chapter. as it so happens this massive fucker was 24 pages which I was going to post all at once; however, this next week is gunna be a huge fuckin asshole for me. im in university and it's one of those "everything is due in the same week" weeks. which I hate. unfortunately, that also means that writing time fic takes a back seat to not disappointing my parents. so I split it into two and I'm gunna post the other one like. monday. monday or later, but within the next week as an apology for this taking so long and the next one which will also inevitably take long.

if u wanna keep hot up to date on whether or not I am writing, u can follow herald-of-fenharel on tumblr to get my super awesome writing sideblog where I occasionally reblog things bc I inevitably fuck up on my dashboard, post chapter alerts, literally fight ingredient-x, and occasionally keep everyone up to date on whether or not I am currently writing so u can be assured that there are no such things as hiatuses on time fic.

uhm besides that, please feel free to tell me what u think bc it'll make my shitty week and get psyched for the next chapter bc this piece of garbage is gunna fucking earn its m rating. sorry to those who aren't into that, but it's all kept neat and tidy at the end so you can avoid it if it so please you.

ALSO I FORGOT TO MENTION OKAY "CHAMPION" BY INGREDIENTX IS NOW A COMPLETE FIC WITH A PENDING EPILOGUE AND IF UR INTO THAT YOU SHOULD TOTALLY GO READ IT BC A HAPPIER ENDING HAS NEVER BEEN HAD IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLLLLD


	13. Chapter 12, Part Two

Saevin was knocked back against the throne as the main hall flooded with lights too bright to bear. Fen'Harel swore loudly and grabbed her arm, moving both of them behind the throne just as a blast of raw mana was thrown in their direction. His arms were steel around her as he cursed.

"Come out little wolfy out out out out," Andruil called. "Leave the little birdy and come taste a monster." Saevin could feel electricity building against her skin, like it would when Corypheus trapped her with his dragon and dismissed her other companions.

"Peace, Dru, you'll have him soon enough," a strange voice hummed. Fen'Harel's hands turns to claws immediately and a growl tore out of his chest. "Oh the pup hears me now, does he?" The voice was eerie and nasal.

"Come to give me another forbidden secret Ghilan'nain?" he asked loudly. "If I tell you you are lovely will you give me your troop movements?"

"Shut up, mutt," she spat in return. "Once Dru tires of you I'll have your cock mounted."

"I believe that is her plan as well," Fen murmured, then tilted Saevin's head up. "Do not move from here, _da'vin," _he urged softly as he stood, turning towards the intruders. Saevin scrambled up on her knees to peer around the throne she hid behind.

Andruil looked as wild as ever, with dark leather trousers and a heavy black bear pelt cast over her shoulders. Her mouth was smeared with what looked like fresh blood, and it coated her hands up to her elbows as well. The woman beside her, who must have been Ghilan'nain, had earth-brown skin with scattered patches of pale white. Her hair was tar black and wildly curly, with sharp white streaks around her temples. The mana that wisped around her like smoke was white as well, and two curving halla horns jutted out from her skull.

A man stood behind them, tall and broad with a long black braid that fell to his waist. His skin reminded her of the rolling wheat fields of Starkhaven, and his eyes were clear brown. He hadn't spoken yet but Fen'Harel's attention was focused almost solely on him and the wisping curls of shadow mana that swirled around him. "A foolish game you've played, Pup," he said finally, his voice tight and furious.

"Here I thought I was finally doing something you would enjoy," Fen said lightly. _Creators, that's Elgar'nan. _As if it wasn't obvious by his barely restrained fury, Elgar'nan shot a dark tendril of mana towards Fen that lifted him off the ground by his throat. Saevin drew herself to her feet in alarm as Fen choked, his blue mana straining against the link.

Saevin stood out from her hiding spot without thinking and the nervous aura of lightning that poured off of her redirected itself like a Pride demon's whip towards Elgar'nan's hands.

_Now I'll have to apologize to Sera, _she thought wryly_._ Her attack hadn't hurt him, but shocked him enough to get him to drop his grip on Fen. The god tumbled to the floor, gasping in pain as he struggled to right himself. Elgar'nan started striding towards her, fire of the sun in his eyes. Sae scrambled back, looking around frantically for something that she could use- anything really- to fend him off.

Her eyes fell upon a decorative sword that sat in the window she was pressed against. It had obviously been shed by one of the soldiers- perhaps it had gotten in the way of their dancing- but Commander Helaine's sharp voice snapped through her head. _Perhaps if you had been trained as a Knight-Enchanter earlier, you might have done something with the sword you threatened Corypheus with._ It wasn't the same discipline as sword and shield, not by a long shot- more akin to fencing- but if she managed to land a few hits she could build up her barrier.

She grabbed it and unsheathed it, trying to control her breathing as the steel sang its way into the air. She held it out in front of her as Elgar'nan approached, trying to remember Helaine's sharp reminders to keep her hand steady. _A blade is a blade is a blade,_ she had said, _and all require a hand that does not tremble._ She struck out once and connected with his arm- a wound that surprised him for its gall- and her barrier sprung to life around her.

Then he grabbed her sword hand and his grip was hot as fire as blackened smoke wrung from her skin. Her weapon clattered to the ground leaving hot metallic residue on her palm and she _screamed, _her magic curling back inside herself. An arrow (Sera?) embedded itself in his shoulder and still he burned her and still she howled for him to stop. _I worshipped you, I was faithful, _she thought wildly, her words coming out in violent shrieks, _stop._

Cha'cer was the one who finally stopped him, blasting him with ice so cold that the fire that burned across his forearms froze solid. Saevin yanked her hand out of his grasp, a charred and unmoving mess. Only her Fade mark glowed starkly against her skin and she might have screamed in horror if there were any air left in her lungs. "Go to Fen, he'll fix it," Cha'cer urged quietly as Elgar'nan fell to the ground in a shivering pile. On wooden legs she staggered until she found Fen'Harel, who wrapped his arm around her and shushed her as he began to repair her bloodied limb.

"Naughty Cha'cer, chilling your betters," Ghilan'nain called. Saevin watched numbly, her head lolling against Fen's chest- it hurt so bad and nothing seemed real, nothing felt real- and realized that the general hadn't noticed that the halla goddess was even there until she'd spoken. A profound change washed over her- she grew stiff and her grip loosened dangerously on her daggers as if she meant to drop them. She reaffirmed her grip _violently_, the mere act of holding the blades a rebellion.

Saevin waited for Cha'cer to say something- a joke, something lewd, something angry- but nothing came but silence as her shoulders started to shake and she aggressively lifted and lowered her head as if she couldn't decide quite how to stand. "When will they leave?" Saevin asked, her voice hoarse. She wanted this to be over like she had never prayed for the ending of anything in her life. She wanted them to go _away _or _die _or something, anything that would make it so Fen'Harel could reassert control and end this entire fucking party.

"Sh, _da'or, _do not worry," he said tightly. She noticed absently that he wasn't actually healing her hand- his magic was doing something that certainly looked like healing, but her skin remained charred. She gathered up her scattered will and began to use little bits of healing magic. _If anyone looks they'll know he's doing something else._ Bits of skin reformed itself around the rapidly cooling metal of the sword that had melted in her hands. Her mana wasn't strong enough to leave a mark, and his was powerful enough to subvert attention.

"Do you mean to stand there, _da'len_, as I sacrifice your handsome little thief to the gods?" Ghilan'nain called. Cha'cer fingers loosened and again and Fen's tightened on her ribs.

"How did you get in here?" the general asked between clenched teeth.

"Pardon me?" the goddess asked, her voice reminding Saevin distantly of Keeper Dashana when she was trying to shame children for bad behaviour.

"..._haren._ How did you enter our Keep, _haren,"_ Cha'cer hissed. Something akin to a growl passed through Fen's chest but his magic didn't abate.

"It was me," Sylaise said from her seat across the room. June looked surprised from where he was reclined. "I was the best one for it- no one ever thinks that I have the balls to betray anyone, well… that mistake has been proven," she said, shrugging.

"She was sweet, once. Kind and eager to help those in need," Fen hissed against Saevin's head. "And Ghilan'nain was like Cha'cer's mother- she had just been risen to godhood and was determined not to lose sight of what had made her individual. When she lost it everyone in her temple suffered for it."

"What do you want from us, _haren?"_ Cha'cer asked, her legs starting to shake.

"The fuck you keep callin' this bitch _hrenhren_ for? Put a knife in her skull and let's move the fuck on," Sera shouted from the balcony. Andruil laughed as she turned to face the blonde.

"I remember you little kitty-kitty, you're the one that made my leg all bloody," she sang. Cha'cer spun around and threw her knife sharply- it embedded itself in the ground beside Andruil.

_"Da'len, _we do not _throw_ things-" Cha'cer wrist bent hard, unnaturally, and she cried out in pain. Ghilan'nain twisted the limb until Sera drew back an arrow.

"Get your fuckin' weird magic shite off her or I'll put a fuckin' arrow through your neck," Sera snapped, her voice shaking. Ghilan'nain ignored her and Sera fired. Andruil stopped it with a hard wall of rigid red magic, and turned it slightly. It would miss Ghilan'nain by a foot now, but if allowed to fly further it would bury itself in Cha'cer's stomach.

"What do you think kitty-kitty should I let your arrow fly?" Andruil asked. Fen's magic dared to grow sharper, pulsing faster. No gods seemed interested in stopping him though- no gods seemed to care what he would do to the two who threatened his _elgar'lin, _or the shivering man who had burnt Saevin.

Fen'Harel stood, his mana marking him against the dark stone walls. "You will regret the day you ever dared to enter without my permission," he hissed, and Saevin's heart tugged. He sounded more like a child, more vulnerable than she had ever heard him. _These were his friends, his siblings, his peers, and now he doesn't know who they are, _she thought, cradling her hand.

The magic he had been building released and with a roar, the arrow that had been suspended in angry red magic clattered to the floor. Cha'cer fell into a heap and Sera beat Fen to the punch, hoisting her up over her shoulder _("Come on or I'm gunna haveta start callin' you princess yeah?")_. Cha'cer cast her _elgar'lin _a reassuring smile before turning her attention back to Sera.

Fen'Harel then turned to kneel next to Saevin. "I apologize, Saevin- spirits look at the mess he made of your hand," he murmured, taking it carefully in his own. His healing was much more efficient, and he managed to even remove most of the metal. A few chunks remained and after a few minutes of his frustrated magic prodding at it, she waved him away.

"Metal in my hand isn't even the worst thing that's happened to me today. I'll live with it," she assured him. He stared at her for a second, then leaned over and kissed her. When he pulled away (it took him two tries, which reminded her sharply of Solas), she flexed her hand. Nothing remained of Elgar'nan's work but a hard, heavy piece of metal still stuck in her skin- she suspected that her trying to heal it had done some damage. "How did they get in?" she asked.

"Sylaise dispelled my wards while we were distracted," he explained, helping her to her feet. None of the nobles that had been in the dining hall remained, and there was a great noise coming from the courtyard that Cha'cer and Sera were headed towards. He followed leisurely, his hand resting on her back.

"How did you get rid of them?" she asked. He grinned, but it was weary.

"Cha'cer and I would hardly invite the gods within our walls without a back-up plan. I suspected treachery and enchanted the very stones of the Keep to attune itself to the master of it. When I banished them from the walls, the Keep rejected them fully and ejected them. They will be unable to attack the Keep directly now as they will be unable to find it," he explained. They breached the first level of stairs and Saevin jolted.

Iron Bull and Dorian were standing with Fen's soldiers, surrounded by the supposed slaves of the gods that had ushered them in- except they were all armed to the teeth. Dorian noticed their approach and grinned, waving from the still ground. No one was fighting. "They're not slaves, as it turns out- Bull and I were watching the procession from that tower over there-" he pointed in some vague direction, "-and when we heard the explosion and the fighting start we came down to see what the fuss was. Turns out the slaves were soldiers meant to help in capturing the Keep!"

"No gods no battle though. They're kinda slaves- they don't know what to do without their masters," Bull added, panting slightly. "So I guess it's your call."

She expected Fen to move from her but instead, Cha'cer rose from her place at Sera's side and straightened herself up. In a voice that seemed almost too loud for her body, she shouted to the crowd that stood there. "You entered here slaves and soldiers, serving gods that you only saw long enough to receive your _vallaslin."_ She was still shaking ever so slightly but her rigidly straight posture seemed to awaken something in the crowd. "Fen'Harel is here beside me and offers you a deal- you may stay and serve as free men, become soldiers for him and the men and women you would have never been with your gods, or you may leave. No one will harm you and no one will prevent your going. Go back to your life, go back to your gods unharmed."

At first, no one moved. They all waited, looking at each other and Cha'cer in turn. No doubt they were used to having two options- servitude or pain. The general looked over them firmly and offered them freedom no matter what they chose- even the choice of servitude if it so pleased them. Saevin waited.

The crowd moved to the gates and Cha'cer's jaw tightened. All of them walked, shoulder to shoulder, frantically towards the open air of the mountains. They had no provisions and nothing but the promise of acres to explore and they all scattered. The stables were empty, save for Bull, Dorian, and two elves who remained. "That speech is usually better for recruitment," she said tightly as Sera returned to her side.

"Fuck 'em. Idiots want to go out and die in the snow rather than help some poor little slave out they're fuckin' welcome to it," her rogue said softly as they moved towards the stairs.

The two elves that remained were roughly the same height, towering over Cha'cer, and both knelt when Fen and the general approached. "Brave souls," Fen commented wryly.

"Names, soldiers," Cha'cer said quickly.

The redhead spoke first, lifting her head to reveal pretty blue eyes and the thin, spidery _vallaslin _of Dirthamen. "Velyian, my lady," she said shortly.

"Pft, _lady,"_ Sera teased. Cha'cer slapped her ass with a laugh still edged with discomfort, then turned to the other elf.

"La'ran, general," he said, not lifting his head. He was as pale as a halla, with eyes like a cloudy night sky. His _vallaslin _mirrored Cha'cer's and her face softened ever so slightly.

"Well, for your bravery we'll outfit you and find a place for you in the Fangs. Let me find Lieutenant Raer and they can show you where you'll be sleeping," she said. As if they'd been summoned, Lieutenant Raer appeared. They had wide, round, striking violet eyes and a long black braid down their back. They bid the new recruits to follow and they did so obediently, leaving Saevin and her team in the wide stable grounds.

"Dunno 'bout you but think I've had enough excitement for the night. Wanna turn in?" Sera asked Cha'cer, stroking across her jaw in a concerned sort of way. The general smiled.

"Give me a second, all right?" she asked. Sera nodded and very slowly let her go, pressing a kiss to her temple. Saevin sensed and moment and scurried over to stand near her team and fill Bull and Dorian in on what had happened.

. . . . .

Fen seemed surprised when Cha'cer threw her arms around him, squeezing his waist until he wheezed for breath. "I'm sorry that we fought, and that I kicked you out of my room without listening," she said, standing up as high as she could. He obediently dipped down and kissed her cheek. "If Syrup makes you feel even half of what Sera makes me feel then… then I'm glad you found her," she added earnestly.

"I am sorry I implied that Sera was somehow unworthy of you. She fights bravely and her fire suits you," he agreed. "And I do care for Saevin very much. You do not have to worry," he assured her.

Cha'cer let him go then, a part of her still howling to hold him tighter and not let him forget that _she _was his soul twin, but she stomped it down and returned to Sera. "Ready to turn in?" she asked, putting her arms around her.

"Fuckin' right," she returned coyly, giving her companions a quick nod.

They spoke little on their way back to Cha'cer's quarters, but Sera never let her go and it was a surprisingly great comfort. Everything almost felt normal again, aside from the flaring embarrassment Cha'cer felt. She had acted so… _slavishly_, and that Sera had seen that side to her was humiliating.

So when Sera slid into bed next to her and wrapped her arms around her, Cha'cer was mildly surprised that the rogue was still interested. "You were real fuckin' brave tonight and it was so impressive," she whispered, running her hands up and down her sides. It wasn't sexual, but it made Cha'cer feel more like herself- like the woman who had danced her girlfriend into noble couples just for the sheer fun of it. "You threw a fuckin' knife right towards the fuckin' bird who got my arrow and when she got it I thought I was gunna chuck up somethin' fierce. If she woulda let it go…"

Cha'cer rolled over and curled herself against Sera's chest. The blonde's hands moved to stroke her back. "That arrow was the third you've fired at a god," she teased.

"I'd fire a fuckin' million in 'em if it kept everyone safe- you safe, I guess. Not that you need keepin' safe, fuck you shoulda seen the look on Sunshine's face when you froze his fuckin' nuts off," she giggled. Cha'cer echoed the laughed and it reverberated warmly through her. This was real. Sera was real. "He was all shivery like fuckin' Dorian in the Frostbacks."

"He didn't look like it but he was _pissed _when that arrow hit him," she said with a laugh. Sera was so real and pressed against her, with only some thin smalls separating them. _That…_ was also real, something real that she would never have if she were still a slave. "You don't…" she started, but paused, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer. "You don't think less of me for… Ghilan'nain?" she asked.

"What, Ghillywacker? Nah, shite, she had uptight written all over her. I'd never think less of you for shit like that 'cuz you're brave and you left and even if it wasn't you leavin' yourself you still stayed gone- not like everyone who went out today. That takes guts, right?" she asked, running the pad of her thumb across Cha'cer's cheek.

The general kissed her, her hands moving to fiddle with the clasps on her breastband. Sera jolted, mumbling confused _("Didn't think you'd wanna do that tonight"). _"I do," she whispered back, rolling over on top of Sera to pepper kisses down her chest. She stopped at one round, pink nipple and leaned down to run her tongue against it. The rogue let out a shaky little gasp of pleasure that turned into a moan as Cha'cer ran her finger lightly over the opposite breast and began to suck.

"Shit, shit, _shit,"_ she insisted, pressing Cha'cer's shoulders lightly to push her away. The general went quickly, unsure of herself- had she gone too fast?- when Sera flipped them over and her head dipped below the sheets.

She pulled Cha'cer's smalls down with her teeth and her tongue moved immediately to run along the edges of her, wetness pooling where her tongue left. Cha'cer gasped and her back bowed as Sera's tongue teased her clit then slid back down to explore. The general's hand found the tangle of Sera's pretty blonde hair and wound her fingers through it, spreading her legs wider as Sera grasped her hips.

As an afterthought, she moved the blankets away from Sera so she could watch her. She didn't want to miss the occasional teasing glances Sera cast up as she found a new place to lave her tongue against. After the night they'd had, Cha'cer didn't want to miss even a moment of this gift Sera was giving her, and planned to pay her back until the sun rose.

. . . . .

"I understand if you wish to retire to your own chambers tonight," Fen'Harel said as they walked along. He'd stopped touching her, which had confused her until he spoke- it was anxiety. Perhaps he felt guilty that he hadn't really healed her hand at first.

"Do _you _want me to?" she asked, stopping him. He considered her, then his grin shone with a bit more warmth than it had before.

"Are you asking me to tell a beautiful woman that I do not want her?" he asked, leaning down and kissing her. It was soft and he pulled away quickly. She tried to pull him back but he shook his head. "Shall I take that as a refusal to sleep in your own quarters?" he asked teasingly.

"Well in all fairness, your quarters _will _be my quarters. I have this _really _nice bed and fancy windows and everything," she said, taking his hand and pulling him along. He laughed at her urgency.

"Do we have sex on the bed?" he asked, following her a bit more closely. She nodded.

"Often. It's actually a brothel bed, which you knew when I bought it but never told me. Frankly I suspect it sort of turns you on to roll me over on my knees and fuck me like a-"

"Careful now," he said, his hand at her back. "We are not close enough to an _actual _bed for you to tease me so."

"Tease you?" she asked sweetly. "By telling you that you liked it when I shoved you on your back and rode you until-"

She yelped in surprise when he lifted her over his shoulder and carried her across the emptied main hall. She laughed as he threw open his door and let her down, urging her to get a head start while he made sure everything was properly locked. "You don't want me to wait for you?" she asked.

He grinned. "Wolves like to chase things, _da'or._ If I find you have started without me I will simply have to catch up," he assured her. He had barely touched her besides carrying her but she remembered how Solas had been in bed- eager and impatient… perhaps 'bratty' was the word to describe him, though he'd probably deny it.

Fen would be fun, even if he did lack Solas' years. Fen was a brat anyway.

She didn't manage to make it very far before he caught her, pressing her up against the second door that separated the rest of the floor from his room. She was facing the door rather than him, but it allowed him to rub his hardened cock against her ass, sliding his hand up her thigh to the wetness that was building between her legs. "You almost gave me a stroke when you hit him," he whispered, biting the tip of her ear as his fingers teased against her.

"Either that or watch you choke to death," she murmured back, grinding back against him. He reached up to tease her breast, then worked his wet fingers up to slide wide circles around her clit. She gasped his name as his mouth slid down her neck to bite her.

"Do not misunderstand me, little storm. I was impressed- terrified, but in awe of you," he assured her as she began to arch against his hand. His fingers worked their way back down until he _finally _quit teasing her and pressed one inside of her, curling it around until he found the spot inside her that made her swear so hard Dashana would have cleaned her mouth out with soap.

He wasn't satisfied yet, though, and she felt his Divinity wash over her. She was about to protest- surely he must be exhausted by now- but she felt wet tongues that didn't seem hindered by her dress begin sucking against her nipples. She arched her chest out but Fen brought her back to him. Another wet tongue found her crotch while he busied himself with curling his fingers around inside of her.

"Get me in that room and put me on a bed or I _fucking-"_ he pressed the sensitive area while she spoke and laughed when she tried to get enough movement going to ride his finger- fingers, as he slipped the other one in and spread them out.

"What a bossy storm I hold," he whispered, pressing hard enough to make her knees weak.

"You haven't _seen _me being bossy Fen'Harel, now get in the room," she hissed back. He paused for a moment, then his fingers abated and she growled as he pulled them out of her.

"As you wish, Saevin," he said, adding a special little tilt to his head so she knew he was obeying her. It annoyed her for some reason, as if he were simply humouring her, so she reached up and dragged him down to her by his hair. As she kissed him- hard and scalding, her teeth tugging at his lips and biting at his tongue- she slipped her hand into his pants and pressed feather-light touches against his rapidly hardening cock. He grunted into her mouth and she slid her fingers down to play with him, releasing his hair to coax pleasure from his other head.

And she was a mage too, as it happened- she had no Divinity to tease him with but she knew a pleasant little lightning trick that made his moan and buck into her waiting hand. She laughed and did him one better, sliding to her knees and running her tongue along the length of him. "Sae," he gasped, his hips trembling with the effort of not thrusting.

She gave his head one hard suck, then pulled away entirely and stood back up. "In, Dread Wolf," she said, gesturing at the door. He scrambled to obey and she didn't bother to hide her smug smile.

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i am in a gr8 fuckin' mood today bc my class was cancelled for snow and I am feelin it so hard tbh. still working on chapter 13, and I only have TWO small things due this week then one BIG thing due the next week so it shouldn't be too painful, then I have a reading week (week off) and everything goes back to normal until the next time something's due (Y)

da'or is little flower. sue me, I like stupid pretty petnames.

thank u so much for your reviews and stuff im laughing so hard yall really dont trust me not to break you with this do ya? I mean the break will come but you wont know when or where or why. it's a surprise.

annnd ingredient x has finished champion and started writing modern AU solavellan ! which means Cha'cer ! and Saevin is there too which is fucking incredible and she's an angel but like a really intimidating one. it's called "A Series of Poor Decisions" and it's super hardcore. Esp if you like city elves because it's this wicked sick marriage between dalish elf customs and city elf life and tbh it's pretty much the best thing and I'm in love with it.

and finally, in this chapter u meet Velyian and she belongs to PrinceRabbit ! Velyian is super cute and mad cool tbh.


	14. Chapter 13

Saevin woke up to the hot light of dawn pouring through the windows directly onto the bed. _He _was clinging to her from behind, his body warmth a massive comfort from the chill that leaked through the walls and radiated from the distant mountain range. If she didn't know better she could have pretended that he was Solas, but drew comfort from the fact that she didn't need to. Fen was his own person at the same time that he was Solas, and she dread the moment where his playfulness would be crushed into the dour, grim attitude that Sol had always had.

He grumbled into her neck and started kissing down her shoulders. "Awake?" she asked, rolling over to lay him back. She settled down on his chest and exhaled heavily as the thump of his heart pressed against her ears.

"Mostly. Do you feel well?" he asked, his hand brushing through her hair. She laughed, tracing idle patterns against his bare skin.

"Fantastic, _lethallin, _should I feel any different?" she asked, running her fingers across a raised scar that looked like a claw.

"Ideally not," he said with an easy smile. "Was I better than I will be perhaps?" She laughed and wondered if Solas was watching- or had been watching. _He probably remembers it now that it's happened, _she thought absently. She was mildly surprised by how much the idea turned her on.

"I should have mentioned earlier," she said, looking up. "I spoke with Solas last night." Fen'Harel frowned.

"How?" he asked. She clenched her teeth, remembering Solas' vehemence that he not be told about Mythal.

"Sorry sweetness. More time things you shouldn't know," she said, sitting up to kiss his jaw. He accepted the gesture with only mild sulking.

"What did he say?" he asked.

"He thinks he can figure out a way to send us back to our regular timeline," she said with a grin. She didn't expect his face to fall or for him to sit up.

"How soon?" he asked anxiously. She shrugged her shoulders, trying to ease him back into a relaxed position.

"Not sure, the last thing we talked about was future stuff..." she told him, stroking his very tense arms. "He seemed to know what was going on, though, so maybe not so long." He laid back down and stared at the ceiling in a mildly troubled manner. "Fen, is something wrong?" she asked.

"You... you estimated that you met Solas in... three thousand years?" he asked. She sat up and moved to the table where there was scrap for her to do math on, her skin breaking out in goosebumps as the cold air hit her bare skin.

"Two thousand nine hundred forty years if you want to be specific," she said. He was staring at her and she grinned. "Are you listening?" she asked teasingly, thumbing at her breast drawn taut by the chill.

"Unfortunately. You know that I will be conscious for many of those years?" he asked, not seeming to notice. She shrugged, a little disappointed that he'd not seen her.

"Telling me about _uthenera _kind of fell into the category of spoiling your identity," she reminded him, hurrying back over to crawl on top of him. "Probably quite a few of those years though, I guess."

"I will have to wait for quite a few years to meet you again. In an instant you will be reunited with me but I will be left waiting." He didn't seem pleased by the prospect and she frowned and kissed him.

"It won't be so long," she promised him, pressing kisses down his stomach. "You'll have things to occupy your time I'm sure." He made a warm noise in his chest as she kissed him, grunting when she put him in her mouth.

"Those things will not be you, though," he protested as she took the base of him in her hand. He groaned even as he continued, "and I will be absorbed in your absence." Predictably, she didn't respond until she became impatient enough to remove her mouth from him and straddle him instead. He groaned when she took him, but the darkness wasn't banished from his face.

"I'm sure that you'll have plenty of great sex between when I leave and when we meet," she said with a laugh. He arched his hips for her, drawing her chest down to suck at her sensitive skin.

"I do not care about that," he insisted, nipping at her. She rocked her hips quickly and he ground his fingers to bruise her flesh. "I care about you, not what you can give to me or what anyone else in the world could offer me. I am going to miss _you."_ She flushed, pausing unsurely. He looked up at her face. "Does that displease you?" he asked, panting.

"No, I just... didn't think it was... that personal for you," she said, her thighs shaking as she strained on top of him. He lifted himself up on his elbows.

"Does _that _displease you?" he asked. She shook her head.

"I didn't think of it. I..." she leaned down and kissed him. "Fen, you're... going to make what I have to do so much less stressful. You will be so important to me," she whispered urgently.

"What about now? Right this instant?" he asked.

"It isn't the same?" she returned.

"No. I am myself and I am not only who I may become- must I be him in order for you to feel something for me?" He emphasized his question by pulling out of her and rolling her on her back. She frowned, confused. "Am I so much like your Solas that you are able to close your eyes and pretend that you are with him?" he asked, hurt plain on his face.

"No! Fen, Creators no," she insisted, her arms around him.

"Will you miss me when I am no longer myself?" he asked. She scowled.

"Fen you... you don't change so drastically that you aren't you. You're serious but you're still funny and gentle and I won't have to miss you because you won't be gone. You'll just be older," she told him. "Meeting you, _you_ right now, has let me understand you better."

"I am so glad to have been of service," he snapped, pulling away.

"Fen I didn't mean it like that," she said, grabbing his shoulders and wrapping herself around him. "I don't understand what you expect me to say- do you want me to love you more than him? To be disappointed with an older version of yourself because I miss what he was milleniums ago?"

He said nothing, merely staring forward and scowling. "Do you prefer me like this or how I will be?" he asked, his voice wavering unsurely.

"I don't prefer either over the other," she said sharply. "You're the same fucking person, why do I have to like one version better than the other?"

"Because you're going to leave me to go to him. I would raise you, sit with you, I would be your first worshipper, and he will abandon you and-"

"I don't understand what you're trying to say," she insisted furiously, her face flushed. This, evidently, never changed, how Solas would have his mind reeling a thousand miles in front of her and never try to catch her up, never consider for a second that she wasn't being coy, that she genuinely misunderstood him.

Fen noticed, though, and he exhaled. "I do not want you to leave," he admitted.

"I have to. I'm pretty sure that not leaving would ruin the course of time," she reminded him, her arms hard around his waist. She rested her chin on his shoulder and tried to force the electricity crackling along her ears away from his skin.

"I know that. I know it very well and I imagine that you will not know until you return to your time how well I recognize this... but it does not change the fact that I want you to stay," he said quietly. She kissed the side of his neck and shut her eyes. "Would you stay? If you knew that it would not hurt the timeline to do so?" he asked. She considered for a moment, then finally shrugged.

"I'm not immortal, Fen. Even if I did stay it would serve little purpose," she reminded him.

"I would raise you," he said, his voice strained. "You would be immortal with me, Sae. Please, I would not watch you die." She smiled and kept kissing him to try and soothe him without answering. "In the future I will raise you. It is a perfect solution- if I have been in _uthenera _for any significant number of years then I will be weak. Raising you will make you a source of power, a wellspring from which I may replenish myself," he said frantically.

"Worry about it then, all right?" she asked.

"You do not understand," he insisted.

"I don't," she agreed, and frowned when he stood up and grabbed his leggings. "You could always explain it," she said sullenly.

"I could not," he said simply, and left the room. Irritably, she looked up at the ceiling again.

"You're really an ass, you know that?" she asked Solas. There was no reply, so she assumed he hadn't been listening and stood up to try and find her dress.

. . . . .

"What if I'm old in three thousand years?" Cha'cer asked, her fingers working frantically in and out of Sera. The rogue didn't hear her, instead twisting her hips hungrily until her back bowed and she swore violently. "Sera what if I get old?" Cha'cer asked again, pulling her fingers out to trace along her labia.

"Whatcha mean old?" Sera asked faintly, slowly reacquainting herself with air.

"Grey hair, wrinkles- what if I age like a _shem?"_ she asked. They hadn't left bed all day- Fen had been wise enough to avoid her room for the entirety of that morning as well, although she suspected he might be a little more than occupied himself- and Cha'cer was suddenly feeling older than she should have.

"Why would you age like a human? I age like that too," she said, straightening herself up and pulling Cha'cer over to kiss her. She didn't think she'd ever get tired of how Sera kissed, how quick and hard and frantically she did it as if she had some sort of tongue quota to meet. She liked it immensely because it was a kiss that let you know where you stood.

"Yeah but you'll still be all smooth and sexy when I find you. What if I'm old and gross?" she asked anxiously as Sera moved down her throat to press kisses against her small breasts.

"You're still you, right? Ain't like you're shakin' your fist at kids to ge'off the grass or nothing right?" she asked, sliding back up to kiss her mouth. It was soft and sweet and Cha'cer felt her ears turn pink.

"No more than usual," she said with a grin.

"Then there ain't much I won't like anyway. Ya look like ya age well, yeah?" Sera pressed a kiss to Cha'cer pink nose, then laid down on her chest. "I'm hungry, don't suppose you got anything stored around here so we don't gotta get up?" she asked, looking around.

"I think I have some cookies laying around somewhere," she replied, rolling over to rifle through her bedside table. She always had some sweet or another stored within arms reach of the bed- as a slave she had never received anything sweet and the first time Fen had bought her a round, iced cupcake from a vendor in Arlathan, she had been insatiable.

Sera suddenly had a very strange expression on her face. "Didja make 'em?" she asked quietly- well, as quiet as Sera was capable of being. Cha'cer nodded slowly.

"Yeah, we had some spare supplies so I made a whole bunch. Everyone got sick of them but me," she said unsurely.

Sera kissed her _hard _and her nails dug into her hips as the rogue dragged her close. "Cookies later, orgasms now," she grunted, teasing her fingertips along Cha'cer's pussy. The general wasn't sure _why _baking cookies put her in the mood, but she was sure Sera would tell her. Later.

. . . . .

Dorian wasn't a stupid man, but sometimes Saevin wished he was just a _little _denser. He hadn't missed the way Fen had held onto her in the Courtyard, hadn't missed the way she clung back, and would have had to be absolutely brain-dead to realize that this was the second time that she hadn't slept in the guest room.

Once was a fluke, twice and he knew her well enough to know that she was probably having sex.

"So how was it?" he asked, his voice mocking. _"Time shattering? Paradox-creating? Future-altering?"_ She put her head down on the book she was reading with a scowl.

"I know you're not really interested but between him and his Divinity I think I blacked out once," she said just to irritate him. "And this might just be personal preference but he gets so _needy _he'll eat out for an hour and thank me for it-"

"I wasn't really asking," he snapped.

"I know, I'm trying to teach you a valuable lesson in saying what you mean," she groused. "And before you start saying what you mean, I talked to Solas and he was okay with it."

"You spoke with Solas?" he asked in surprise. She flushed, unable to believe that she had seen so little of Dorian that she hadn't mentioned that to him yet.

"Yes- shit I have so much I have to tell you. All right, to start, Solas killed Mythal and took her power. When Mythal's will was being exercised over me, it was Solas," she explained. He frowned.

"Abelas said the Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder," he protested. Saevin shook her head.

"No, more recent. After he left us," she said. He nodded. "So he has Mythal's will and I also happen to be bound by Mythal's will, so sometime he just takes over and writes." Dorian considered for a moment, nodding.

"Can you get his attention?" he asked. She shook her head.

"He has to be paying attention, I guess," she said with a shrug, looking back down at her book. There was an interesting train of thought about the reversibility of certain blood magic rituals, but they were mostly to do with blood magic that transported people into the Fade without an exit.

"Does Fen'Harel know?" he asked. She nodded.

"About Solas speaking with me, not about Mythal. We're not allowed to talk to him about her," she said. _Blood of the same volume and source must be used while the ritual is completed backwards… _That probably wouldn't work.

"Speak of the devil…" Dorian said, nodding behind her. Fen'Harel entered the library and upon catching sight of her, froze up. The Tevinter mage shook his head and muttered an expletive before bowing out of the room and down into the rotunda. Saevin took her opportunity and stood, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek.

"Fen if I did something wrong you have to tell me. If you're upset with me I want to apologize for it," she said softly. He shifted anxiously, but eventually leaned down to kiss her in return. He even went as far as to lift her up and let her wrap her legs around his waist.

"You haven't done anything wrong I just… some days I grow weary of losing people I care about," he said softly. "Wolves are very much pack animals and I am as well. I grow paranoid and frightened at the thought that one day I will be alone- I would despise it and fall to loneliness before I fell to any foe."

_Dying alone, _she thought raggedly. _His gravestone said dying alone._

"I'll always be in the future Fen, and whether I know it or not I'll be waiting for you," she assured him softly. "And when I meet you you're going to be tired and scared and unassuming-"

"What does that mean?" he asked. She smiled, and kissed his nose.

"You try to play the part of innocent hermit. Honestly I'm not sure if half the people in the Inquis- in the…" she swore at her slip.

"Inquisition. Is that where we meet?" he asked. She nodded irritably, but kissed him anyway.

"Yes, it's called the Inquisition. Anyway, I'm pretty sure half the people don't think you speak the Common," she said, hopping down from his hold and sitting back down to read. _In the case of hexes placed permanently onto the receiver in blood, removal is not so easily done. The power of some sort of Divine being would be required to do so, and even then the delicate healing required could easily scar the hex into the skin._

"No one is attracted to my dashing good looks?" he asked, moving her book away from her. She grinned and snatched it back, marking the chapter for later.

"I am, but it's different. You look different in the future- less wild, more… dignified," she said. He slid onto her lap, balancing his weight on his knees that rested on the plush velvet armchair she sat in.

"Dignified?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. She wound her arms around his hips.

"No piercings, sensible clothing, you're bald-"

"Pardon?"

"Bald?"

"No. No thank you, I will _not _be doing that," he said, his hands reaching into his hair as if to protect it. She laughed.

"But it's sexy," she protested. "Makes the angles of your face all severe so when you're scolding me I'm extra turned on."

"You wish to be scolded?" he asked, leaning down to kiss her.

Glyphs slithered down her body and she shoved him away roughly- much more roughly than was strictly necessary, with an added swat at his head. She staggered over to the table, grabbing a spare quill and beginning to scribble in the notebook that Dorian had left behind.

_Are you all right? Are you hurt, how is your hand- the idiot did not bother to care for it properly and you healed your skin over the metal. Does it hurt?_

She smiled and sat up on the desk. "I'm fine, Solas. The hand is fine, it doesn't hurt at all and it makes a neat clicking noise when I tap it on the desk," she said to the ceiling. Fen'Harel stood and moved beside her, leaning over her shoulder to read what was written. He frowned.

"This is Solas writing to you?" he asked. She nodded, leaning over to settle herself against him. "Would he have preferred I allowed the gods to remain in my Keep?" he asked flatly, watching as glyphs retook her. She shoved him- or he shoved himself, in some weird way- and began to write frantically.

_It would have taken less than a moment and none of the gods even cared for what magic you were drawing upon. You should not have left her alone anyway, especially with the way you had been fawning over her all night. Saevin is a powerful mage but she is not a wild, unhinged god! And you __**had**__ to rile him up and you would have died if not for her sacrifice!_

Saevin frowned as she read what was written. "Sol that isn't really fair…" she started.

"What right have you to judge me? You join with her, her Inquisition, and yet it does not benefit from your influence. Are you too weak, old man, to use your powers for those who need you?" he demanded. Saevin flushed and took his face, but Solas took her before she could scold him.

_I have kept Saevin alive on the brink of death more times than I can count and whatever mistakes I have made you have yet to make- in truth the only reason that I do not tell you of them is because I worry about the consequences that changing your course will have for the future. It should not surprise you that you ruin everything you touch and destroy everything you love because you always seem to be right about everything until it blows up in your face._

The end was punctuated with a hard period and Saevin shook her head. "Solas," she scolded, and a soft _apologies, vhenan _scrawled across the page. Fen'Harel scowled darkly.

_"I _have ruined nothing, old man. You look back at your past failings and wish to pin them on me? You are bitter and if there was a way to convince Saevin to stay here I would keep her from you for as long as I lived," he spat.

_You are an idiot. We are the same person._

"Do not insult me by implying that I am anything like you," Fen'Harel began, but Saevin stopped him.

"This has been really fun for me, it has, being the go between for your pan-temporal bickering, but I'm calling an end to it. I'm fine, Solas, I promise- if you think back I was fine not five minutes after I was properly healed."

_I would have healed you first._

"Then you wouldn't have had a distraction as you built up your spell. Don't worry about it," she urged him, still looking at the ceiling.

_I should have healed you first._

"You're starting to freak me out- what does the metal do, does it ruin the mark? Does my hand explode?" she asked, her voice tight. Fen pulled her onto his lap and kissed her hair.

_No, nothing like that. I only regret your injury due to my negligence. The entire feast was a foolish idea to begin with, but I was bored and I missed having a proper court. You were hurt because I was an idiot._

"And you expected me to what, ignore the neutral gods entirely?" Fen demanded.

_You knew before they even arrived that they would either leave in indifference or betray you. There was a backup spell in case of betrayal that you had at the ready- you had no reason to go through with it at all, but you did because you hoped to show off your charm and make Elgar'nan angry. Well, you succeeded._

"I said to stop fighting like this!" Saevin shouted. Fen grumbled out an apology and Solas wrote another fast _abelas. _"Now Solas was there something else? Otherwise I should get back to looking into the _vallaslin _spell," she said shortly. She didn't expect that Solas could simply tell her how to do it, otherwise it would create a strange paradox wherein the exact way to achieve the spell was never actually learned- Solas would simply know it and then pass on the knowledge to himself in the past.

_I wanted to speak with you. I have not been honest and you should know some things about me, but we cannot speak with the Pup hovering over your shoulder._

Fen'Harel stood, but kissed Saevin slowly. "I am sorry we fought, _da'or,"_ he murmured, his mouth trailing her jaw and down to her shoulders. "And I hope to see you later."

"You're doing this to make Solas mad," she said exasperatedly.

"I am, but it is hardly a torment for me I assure you. I imagine I similarly annoy him by being better looking and less prickly as well," he murmured. She smiled and kissed him, then nudged him away. He left obediently and Saevin waited for Solas to write.

_I told you that I did not give my orb willingly to Corypheus. I was… partially lying._

She frowned, looking around curiously. She seemed to be catching on the to fact that he probably wasn't hovering over her like a cloud. "You… gave it to him?" she asked hesitantly.

_No, but… it was convenient for me to let him have it. He took it from my sleep but I had ample opportunities to retrieve it from him, and I did not. I encouraged him to use it- I was too weak after _uthenera _to unlock it, and Corypheus drew power from a source I did not understand and in my ignorance I believed beneath my notice._

"But Corypheus drew power from the Blight," she protested as he paused to let her read. There was a pause long enough to make her think that his attention had been drawn elsewhere, but he began again slowly.

_I went into _uthenera _before the first Blight occurred. When I awoke for the first time, it had been over for centuries and I was so absorbed in Andraste that I never heard more than a passing mention of it. When I found the source of Corypheus' power I knew that it was foul, but it was also powerful and I made a decision._

_"Andraste? _You _knew _Andraste?" Saevin demanded. Almost sheepishly, the writing began again.

_She did have a rather loyal elf companion, did she not?_

_"You _are Shartan?" she yelled. Dorian, who was at the top of the stairs (having seen Fen'Harel leave the library), froze where he was.

"No?" he asked.

"Not you, Solas. He's writing to me and he just fucking told me _he _was Shartan!" she said loudly. Dorian's eyebrows rose and his mouth fell open.

"He knew the prophet?" he asked in a vaguely awestruck manner.

_I did. She was a very sweet girl and I regret her place in history, _he wrote simply. Saevin narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Yes that's all well and good but the Dalish maintain that Shartan was her lover," she said. Dorian's shock turned into a frown.

_She was a very sweet girl._

"Solas," she said skeptically.

_A very sweet, scared girl whose immortal elven god and ancient abomination companions forced her to marry a barbarian lord for the sake of the slaves. Well, that is unfair. Mythal did not want it and _I _did not want it, but Flemeth was insistent that it was the only way to gain an army._

"But Shartan was supposed to be a slave," Dorian protested.

_He was not- he spoke on their behalf, certainly, only because the god of rebellion listened to them and heard their concerns. As more and more _shem _began to follow Andraste, she became less and less of an elven figure._

"Andraste was an elf?" Dorian asked. Saevin's jaw snapped shut and she clenched her teeth so hard her mouth hurt.

_Well, yes. It is why Flemeth insisted that we marry her off to a human barbarian- so no one would be able to look at her and see a slave. Mythal and I did not understand the necessity, but we did not understand the politics either._

"And they stopped seeing her as an elf?" Saevin asked, her voice wavering.

Vhenan, _no one in Thedas will ever stop seeing __**you **__as an elf. It will be the thorn in the noble's side and the secret joy of every servant in every palace across the continent for the duration of your legacy._

"Then why don't we know that Andraste was an elf?" she asked.

_Because the humans knock our ears off when they exalt us and put them back on when they need a scapegoat. When evidence of my indiscretion with Andraste surfaced, the Chantry returned my heritage to me and banished me from her side. When I was forgotten, it became possible for them to take the Dales from the elves._

"And the two of you were knocking boots?" Dorian asked flatly.

_I would not phrase it as such but I was sleeping with her, yes. Her barbarian husband terrified her and for good reason- he was old and uncouth and saw in her only a pretty little elven doll for him to bend over whenever it pleased him. It was Mythal's wrath that kept him in line for the most part, but she was lonely and I was a fellow elf that was actually corporally present. We had thought we were being subtle but evidently we left more evidence than we believed if the Chantry were able to discover us years after the fact. Maferath caught us eventually, of course. I always thought that he reacted much too level-headedly to be trusted but Andraste was simply relieved that we were both allowed our lives. I learned later that we were relieved far too soon._

"Did you love her?" Saevin asked quietly. She wasn't jealous- it was a strange concept altogether to even think about being jealous of _Andraste_- but she was _curious._

_No! Well, yes, but not like I love you and not how I love Cha'cer. How I felt about Andraste was wholly different, a dangerous and lethal mixture of pity, loneliness, fear, and admiration. She would have done well for herself if she had not been born a slave, if she had never been married to Maferath or ever met us. She was a good Fereldan woman, and would have been happy with her own family out in the woods without ever having to think of anything painful. It was Mythal and I who ruined her, and Maferath who snuffed her out of existence._

"How was sex with the prophet?" Dorian asked wryly.

_No._

"Come on, it isn't every day you've met someone who's had sex with a holy figure. Was she good in bed?" he asked, taking Saevin's chair.

_**No**__._

"She wasn't?"

_**Anyway**__, _vhenan, _that is what I wanted to tell you. The Breach in the sky was my fault and the subsequent deaths are on my hands. I did not give Corypheus my orb at first, but I never took it from him and bade him use it because I thought myself above petty mortal magic. I continue to be a fool well into the future it would seem. I was also having sex with Andraste although I did not exactly mean for that to come up._

Saevin read his words and laughed quietly at the end, heaving out a sigh that seemed to deflate her. Dorian scowled as he read the paragraph, then he flipped back frantically to read what Solas had told her before, the full story. "It was _you?"_ he demanded furiously.

_Yes. I was not at the Conclave itself, but in a tavern when Corypheus unlocked it. I believe Varric was there as well, thinking back, but that hardly matters. I was trying to absorb information- I had been asleep for so long and learning of the Templar Order disturbed me greatly- and then the Temple exploded and I very slowly began putting the pieces together. When I heard a woman had stepped out of the Fade itself at the very sight of the explosion- and a Dalish no less- I had to see for myself._

"Lucky me," Saevin muttered teasingly.

_ I will not, however, accept the judgement of the Inquisition if that is your desire. I have too much to do, and I will not be stopped now._

"You know Solas, your _trustworthiness _really needs some work. What does that mean?" Dorian asked, standing up to go stand near Saevin as if to shield her from a blow that could come from anywhere.

"He's sort of right, _ma'lath, _that did sound very… villainous," she said.

_I suppose it did, but I am the last person who could dare try to judge the morality of my own actions. I have only the best intentions,_ he wrote. Dorian snorted and Saevin cringed a little. _We will discuss it further when you are home. I will leave you to your research now, if it pleases you._

"Thank-you Solas- er, do you want to be called Solas still?" she asked.

_I would prefer Fen'Harel, but in the interest of minimizing the inevitable headache that trying to differentiate us would cause, I shall stick to Solas until the timeline is righted._

"Gotcha. I'll start carrying a notebook around and you can contact me whenever- almost whenever," she corrected herself.

_Yes, I imagine it would be disturbing for me to interrupt you and him, _he wrote, and it had one of those _tones _that he insisted he couldn't convey in writing.

"I don't know, you could join in a little. It would be sexy," she said.

_I will speak with you later, _vhenan.

"That's what I thought," she said smugly.

. . . . .

Fen was pouting and trying to get her to leave the library. Dorian could barely restrain his fake gagging noises, until Iron Bull showed up to act as a giant throne for the mage- then they fretted over books and translations together, while Saevin finally sat Fen down in a chair and sat on his lap so he could at least occupy himself with nipping at her neck if he refused to read.

She found the book she had marked earlier, curling against his chest to find the page she was at. _The sheer volume and dexterity of the mana involved in removing blood hexes would require Divinity to slow time sufficiently in order to be able to very delicately heal the blood matter and remove any foreign toxins (for example, ink, poison, semen, etc…)._ Saevin's nose curled.

"What sort of blood ritual mixes blood and semen?" she asked. Fen laughed.

"The sort for certain fertility rituals, pleasure spells…."

"Blood magic sex spells. Blood magic turns someone on?" she asked. He shrugged.

"To each his own."

"What about hexes?" she asked.

"Infertility hexes, impotency curses, dry spells… there's also runes though. _Those _I could show you," he murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the crook of her neck. She hummed. "Runes to draw out orgasms, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial runes…" he promised as he kissed her.

"Blood magic still isn't sexy," she protested.

"Where does it mention blood magic and semen?" he asked. She handed him the book, but just before he could touch it she yanked it back, her mouth falling open.

"Fen, no that's the answer!" she shouted.

"Semen?"

_"No_, the _vallaslin! _You need to slow time then begin the process of healing- here it's in the book read it!" she insisted, shoving it at him. His eyes poured over the words and Saevin vibrated anxiously where she sat. When he finally pulled his attention back to her, he looked wan but thrilled.

"I will need to try it but I-"

_"My lord!" _A shout from the stairway jolted Saevin and a bolt of electricity shot down her spine as she scrambled off of Fen. He stood to catch the runner, Lieutenant Raer, who was frantic and out of breath. "My lord we found a wandering group of slaves separated from their master, a noble who was travelling from Arlathan. One woman with their group had only just been branded with the _vallaslin _and she's tearing her face off trying to remove them," they reported frantically.

Fen moved fluidly towards the stairs and hurried down, while Saevin, Dorian, and Bull followed. They could hear the shrieking of a high pitched voice before they even left the main hall, and found a woman kneeling in the courtyard scraping down her face with her nails. She was cursing in Elvish, phrases that didn't make any sense to Saevin, until Fen'Harel kneeled down next to her.

The blue of his Divinity seemed to pacify her, and she let her bloody hands drop into her lap. "I need them gone, please get these hideous things off of my face," she pleaded, fat tears rolling down her cheeks and watering down the blood that slithered out of thin scratches.

"I may have a spell, but it is only experimental. It may do more harm than good-"

"I would rather die than keep these," she insisted, grabbing his hands. Saevin remembered the feeling vividly- how suddenly the _vallaslin _had become a weight on her face and every stroke _burned_ into her skin. He nodded, then inhaled deeply.

It was a mimic of the ritual that Solas would perform on Saevin at Crestwood. His magic, sweet and blue, poured from his hands and into her face. It was much slower than it would be with Saevin, but his focus was no less intense and his grin no less genuine when the light faded from his bronze fingers and he let his hands drop. The woman looked up at him.

Her face was bare.

"Raer," he said quickly, snapping his fingers.

"Yes, sir?"

"Go find General Cha'cer."

.

..

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...

holy shit can u believe theres like three chapter left of this fic probably. i mean the way things r planned there's thrwee left but there r definitely room for fuck ups on ym part. anyway today went GR8 ish i mean iw atched a three hour documentary on fucking basketball for some reason but.

anyway uhm i feel like there was something i wanted to say about this chapter but there really isnt so im gunna jump right into recommending that u go read "A Series of Poor Decision" by ingredientx ! Because it's wicked awesome and it's a modern au but not a weird modern au where everything is different but a THEDAS modern au where the dalish got hoisted into the cities (bc you cant just live out in the woods bruh) and the oppression of elves and elven delinquents and dalish traditions being transferred into a modern context and SOLAS is there and he's SUPER HOT and SUPER RAD and I can literally not recommend this story enough it's two chapters long and ongoing and also sae is in it !

so anyway I think that's all I have to say. if i think of something else ill probably post it on tumblr (herald-of-fenharel) but anyway thanks 4 ur super sweet reviews and all that i really like hearing from everyone !


	15. Chapter 14

_Tarasyl'an Tel'as _was insufficient for the ceremony, such as it was. It felt momentous- Cha'cer was wide eyed and pallid, as if she didn't quite believe what was happening, that he had finally perfected his spell.

There were precautions taken of course, several more tests on several more very willing participants, until they were both certain enough to try it on the general. He took her to one of the groves that surrounded the Keep in the mountains, which was dim in the sunset and damp with the water that trickled from the small waterfall that fell against the blue-black rocks.

His _elgar'lin _was drifting forward as if she were in a dream, and she settled down on the ground despite its wetness. Fen'Harel followed suit, settling beside her and letting her crawl into his lap. She pressed her head against his heart, shutting her eyes and letting her fingers clutch at his robes. _"Vhenan'ara," _he murmured, squeezing her waist.

"Is that still true?" she asked quietly.

"In some ways. Just because I do not wish to sleep with you does not mean I do not love you," he hummed. She sighed against him with a crooked smile that devoured the nerves that had curled her against him.

"So this is how it is now, right? I mean you have Seafood that you're always messing around with and fawning over, and Sera... Sera's really..." she shook her head with a grin, but it faded as her attention refocused. "So are we just gunna be friends? Everything else is just gone now?"

"It is not that simple, Cha'cer. It is not as if our relationship grows more simple, not as if we have taken a step down. I still feel strongly for you, I still... do _you_ feel as if you do not love me as strongly?" he asked, suddenly insecure.

"Don't be dumb," she scolded, shoving him lightly. Relief bloomed in his chest at her sheer disbelief at his doubt. "You and Sera aren't the same deal… I mean… shit it's just not the same." She was brushing her fingers against the soft hem of his robes, a habit that she had developed in the clearing behind Ghilan'nain's Temple. She liked to touch him, fiddle with his clothes and play with his hair. It was a massive comfort, and for a moment both of them wondered if it would change one day- if the habit would fade and their bodies would become strangers.

"It is not the same?" he asked after she fell silent.

"She isn't like you. She's not my _elgar'lin, _even if her tits are _divine,"_ she said with a stupid grin. Fen rolled his eyes with a smile and she seemed to find footing in his mirth. Something shifted, and the atmosphere seemed to lighten into something bearable, breathable. His grip was less manic, less like he was clutching her against him lest she dissolve away. The tension of them moment was gone and replaced with something new- a novelty in and of itself, as their relationship had been stagnating, constantly on the tipping point of sex and love.

They weren't afraid anymore. The passion that had fallen from in between their fingers as the centuries tugged along was no longer something that they were _missing_. Their fervor was no longer something lost between the two of them when it was redirected, and it didn't hurt to change as much as they had expected.

Cha'cer thought of Scrapbook- Saevin- and the future that would supposedly come to pass. "Fen, they never mention me in the future. They have to bite back mentions of you, but they didn't even know that I exist. Wouldn't that mean we were… separated?" she asked.

"It could also be that you are working undercover, or that you are otherwise engaged-"

"Is that something you'd be fine with? Me just not being there while you meet Saevin?" she asked. _Is there gunna be a time where you don't want me with you?_

"No! Saevin is... singular, but you are as well and in a very different way. You know more about me than anyone else in the world does, and you are fun and exciting. I have never regret for even a moment that we met or that I risked the wrath of Ghilan'nain to speak to you," he said earnestly. "It was love at first sight and it remains love, simply... platonic," he added.

"Platonic," Cha'cer echoed. "Do I still get candy on Lover's Day?" she asked. He laughed, something loosening his chest that he hadn't even known was wound.

"Yes, Cha'cer, I will still buy you candy on Lover's Day," he assured her.

"Plus you'll have to find out what sort of candy Shamrock likes. So that's like, double the effort for you," she added. Fen snorted.

"What about Sera?" he asked.

"She likes cookies a lot. She likes _my _cookies," she said with a proud grin. Fen raised an eyebrow.

"Which part of you is the cookie again?" he asked, poking her hip. She swatted at him.

"Pervert," she scolded with a laugh.

Fen leaned in and kissed her forehead impulsively, then drew his finger along the _vallaslin_ on her chin. She shivered and nipped at his hand. "Do you want them gone, Cha'cer?" His voice was soft and he traced his fingers back down to her hips. "This will be your choice, _vhenan'ara_, yours alone. If you want you _vallaslin _gone from your face you need only tell me and I will help you."

"I've never been able to move forward _without _your help," she quipped with no small amount of bitterness. Fen'Harel frowned.

"Your life has been your own, _da'mi, _and though I have played a large part you have not been a damsel in your own story," he said seriously. Cha'cer grunted with a mild smile.

"No, you're usually the damsel who can't go thirty seconds without pissing someone off and almost getting yourself chained to Andruil's bed for a year," she reminded him. He cringed good naturedly and kissed across her cheeks. "And I know you have to be the one to do it and you have no control over that-"

"I could raise you," he reminded her. She scowled.

"With your fucked up Divinity? No thanks." He snorted. "My Divine form will end up being a three-legged, inside out nug." He laughed and ruffled her hair until it fell out of her ponytail. She kneed him and gathered her hair back up, and let her hands fall into her lap. She flexed her face, feeling her markings keenly.

"Cha'cer?" he asked softly.

"Get rid of them, Fen," she said, her voice hard. "I'm done belonging to her."

"Yes, _vhenan,"_ he whispered.

His hands shook minutely as he moved them to position, summoning his Divinity to his skin and pressing it against her face. He felt time slow to a crawl and he narrowed his eyes in focus- ink poured out of her flesh and into his hand, alongside her blood- the blood had to be returned to her skin, carefully.

Cha'cer huffed impatiently against his fingers and he smiled. It happened in the breadth of a second at the same time that it dragged through into minutes. Time always stopped having meaning terribly quick when he had his Divinity on.

When he moved his hands, he avoided looking at her. This moment was private and long awaited and he would allow her to pass judgement before he looked on her. He heard her shuffle through the grass over to a clear pond in the glade, blackened by the night. His heart pounded and he grew paranoid as her silence dragged on. _Had it worked? Had he scarred her face permanently?_

He thought of her when they'd met, fiercely independent but never stupid- she was wary of him at the same time she held him close, constantly watching for his betrayal. How the marks had stared at him- how they had framed her big round eyes and been like Ghilan'nain taunting him. Wisping and purple they had been on her face since he'd known her, and been a source of agony in the days following her release from Ghilan'nain's service. She'd dug her nails into her forehead in terror, demanding that they be taken off.

Ghilan'nain's mark was beyond the _vallaslin_, he knew. He knew her nightmares like he had watched them himself- the halla goddess transforming her priests into monsters then setting them loose on villages while Cha'cer looked on in horror. She had always blamed herself for Ghilan'nain's perversion, worried that it had been her lack of attention to the woman's slow descent into depravity that had allowed her cruelty.

His heart was full fit to bursting, when he heard her quiet laugh.

"I'm _still _so much better looking than you," she said with a laugh. "I was worried."

He exhaled a breath he hadn't known he was holding and grinned through tears he hadn't felt himself crying.

. . . . .

Saevin heard Fen and Cha'cer return late in the evening, and tried to pretend as if she hadn't even noticed. Dorian stared at her skeptically, but said nothing as she almost violently tried to tamp down on her fidgeting as the steward announced the return of the pair.

Sera was sitting on the railing, carving dirty words in Common into the wood. She didn't move either, though she was less subtle in the way she stared at the rotunda, waiting for Cha'cer to summon her. When Fen appeared instead, her face fell, which made him laugh.

"Cha'cer waits for you in her chambers, rogue. I would not keep her waiting," he said briefly, before moving on to Saevin. _"Da'or,_ come to the baths with me," he murmured against the crook of her shoulder. She looked unsurely at Dorian who staunchly refused to look up from his books. She couldn't tell if he was still disappointed in her. Fen laughed softly, opening his mouth to suck at her skin. Electricity slid across her and she hummed a little, even as he put his arm around her waist.

"It's a public bath, _lethallin,"_ she murmured, trying to speak without drawing the mage's attention. Fen'Harel lifted her out of her chair and made eye contact- he wanted permission. She bit her lip then nodded shortly.

"I will endeavour to be quiet, then," he said with a smile. She shifted herself to drape over his back as he walked, casting a quick apologetic glance at Dorian. He rolled his eyes but stood and cracked his back- she was glad. It didn't do anyone any good for him to shut himself off in the library. They were in Ancient Thedas, he may as well have as much fun as the rest of them.

Saevin settled her head on his shoulder as he led them forward. "Did everything go okay?" she asked softly. He nodded with a smug grin smeared across his face.

"I do fantastic work, _da'vin._ Maybe one day I'll take yours off with half the crying I did," he said flippantly, hoisting her weight up. She laughed, righting herself.

"You don't cry when you take mine off. I cry, a lot. A whole nasty day full of sobbing," she said wistfully. He frowned and she kissed his neck. "You can apologise by skipping the bath," she murmured, moving her hands to the loose tie at his waist.

"Later, _little storm, _I promise," he said, shifting the door to the bath open. It was far too late for anyone to be sitting in the room, so Fen wasted no time undressing her. He sucked down her neck and carefully slipped the silk of her wrap down over her shoulders.

"I thought you said you wanted a bath," she whispered, tugging at his trousers insistently. He slid them down and kissed her mouth greedily.

"I do," he agreed, lifting her up onto his hips, "You are making it fairly difficult to focus." She laughed and shimmied down, standing about a foot away from him.

"Better?" she teased. He smiled and shook his head, dragging her back over to him. It felt like Fade-Haven all over again, which when compared with all their other experiences, could be argued as the best one. She pushed his hair back as he kissed her, then gently pushed him away. "Take your bath, Dread Wolf," she scolded.

He huffed. "If you insist," he sighed, but still pulled her in behind him. She settled down to relax a little while he washed the heaviness of his evening away, but tensed almost immediately.

"Creators, Fen. Back when I realized… back when I realized you and Sol are the same person I hit you," she said. He raised an eyebrow.

"What brought that up?" he asked, moving over to her to kiss her collarbones.

"I was thinking of-" She cut herself off, her face turning red. He grinned.

"When I _asked _you to hit me?" he teased.

"I shouldn't have hit you," she insisted. He frowned.

"I asked you to, _da'vin,_ and you hardly gave me your full force- just enough to make me want it," he reminded her with a lazy smile.

"No, when I hit you in Cha'cer's room. I'm so sorry, I won't do it again," she promised, stroking his hair. He kissed up her neck, to her mouth, then back down around her shoulders.

"I forgive you, Saevin," he said, which relieved her. "Though by all means, when I ask for it feel free," he added. She put her arms around him and kissed his mouth squarely, casting her eyes quickly around the room to make sure they didn't have an audience. They wouldn't fuck until he dragged her back upstairs (a slow process no doubt), but she couldn't shake the lingering caution that had ghosted behind her and Solas in Skyhold.

. . . . .

Sera had her hands stroking through Cha'cer's hair and her chin on the general's head. "In the future, bunch of elves get those goofy marks like they're a status thing," Sera mumbled to her. "Thought it was kinda funny when Sae found out they were slave marks but now just seems kinda yuck, right? Like who was the asshole who told e'eryone that they were supposed to feel like the tats were a good thing?"

"They think they're a good thing?" Cha'cer asked, almost purring when Sera ran her fingers absently across her bare face. It was novel, being able to feel someone's touch without flinching in fear of them dragging their skin across her tattoos. They were gone now, though, and Sera could kiss her forehead without the burning trailing down to her chin.

"Yeah, they say it like _oh we're the __**real **__elves, we got these marks all the old elves had. All you cocks that actually like humans aren't __**real **__elves you just might as well be humans,"_ she said in a deep, mocking voice. Cha'cer frowned.

"So the only prerequisite for being an elf is… face tattoos made in blood?" she asked.

"On kids too, right? But nah, the biggest thing you need is that you need to hate humans and act like a cock," Sera explained. "If you don't hate humans, don't wanna kill 'em all because _they _don't like elves… dunno it's all jumbled in my head, can't make it sound right so people get me," she mumbled.

"You can try if you feel like it. I'm not going anywhere Sera," Cha'cer promised. Sera exhaled in one even breath, pulling Cha'cer up against her hard.

"S'like, if you don't hate all humans for what they did to elves… don't think I should tell you that part, but not all of 'em did it! Some of 'em just want to live their lives and you can't swing a fuckin' dead cat without hittin' an elf _bitching _about the glory days. Now that I'm here it's pretty nice, but… but I still like being me. I like having humans and dwarves and all the shit around, I ain't seen _one _since we got here!" she insisted. "Diversity or some shit, yeah? I don't wanna put elves on top because everything fucks up and suddenly they're too busy fightin' with each other over what makes a real elf and tryin' to prove to each other they're _real _elves it's like _Andraste _just fuckin' live your life, right?"

"Dwarves are fun," Cha'cer agreed. "Humans sort of freak me out because they die so fast but… I guess that isn't really a problem for you." Sera laughed. "Wouldn't mind partying with one though, maybe."

"Yeah but that's fair 'cuz humans are new-ish, right? Ya'int never seen one for too long- on _you, _it's fine. But in the future humans are _everywhere _and they got empires and chantries and shite, and people are still trying to avoid 'em like they're gunna be immortal again if they prove to some shitty fake gods that they're _elfy _enough," Sera said, her nose curling. Cha'cer kissed her neck, grinning.

"So you hang around with humans? And dwarves?" she asked.

"Shit, yeah. There's Dorian, you know him- then there's Vivi, she's a fuckin' riot. Cass is human too though I think there might be a bit of giant in her or something because I swear, you could beat her with a club that's on fire and she wouldn't even flinch as you swung. Josie and Lady Squawking Ravens are both human, so's Blackwall. Varric's a dwarf, just like Daggie and Lace," Sera trailed off, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" Cha'cer asked, kissing her jaw.

"Kinda miss all of 'em, right? But I don't wanna leave you here neither," she says. Cha'cer snorted.

"I might be there waiting for you though," she says, and Sera frowns.

"You'll still hafta wait, and… and who even knows when Solas is gunna cough you up?" she asked, her brow creased with worry. Cha'cer kissed her until the darkness passed and there was nothing in the world but their tongues swiping indolently at each other and their nails scraping gentle lines across skin.

Cha'cer pulled away with a wet murmur, pressing a few more kisses against her chin just because she could. "I'll be there, _emma lath, _and no god or passing of time could ever stop me," she promised quietly.

"I'll hold you to that, Squish," Sera said faintly.

"Squish?"

"Because you make my guts all squishy," she teased, pulling her back to cuddle. Cha'cer's heart jumped in her chest and she closed her eyes with a big, stupid grin.

. . . . .

Fen was holding court and Saevin decided to avoid the ceremony. Being thrown back in time had provided a _lovely _vacation from listening to simpering nobles, and she intended to enjoy it even if Fen sulked about being left alone to deal.

She was headed out to the garden when Cha'cer caught her, shoving her against the hard stone wall. She jolted but tried to remain very still- Cha'cer wouldn't hurt her because Fen liked her. There was no reason to panic, she hoped.

"All right Sandbag-"

"Saevin," she corrected irritably. "My name is _Saevin_." She had never realised exactly how many nouns actually began with 's' and the realization was more annoying than fascinating.

Something drew over Cha'cer's expression and suddenly the general was giving her a look that bordered on feral. "All right _Saevin, _I'm here to have a chat with you _Saevin. _You see _Saevin, _you and my blood brother have been getting really cosy lately _Saevin _and I want to know that you aren't gunna break his heart out of some sort of bullshit backwards 'pre-emptive revenge' sort of thing," she hissed.

Saevin never thought she'd prefer being called 'Salamander', and yet there she was. The way Cha'cer spit out her name made it sound like a curse and almost made her nervous that she'd been hasty in assuming that Fen liking her would ensure she didn't leave this conversation with broken limbs.

"I'm not going to hurt him Cha'cer, let me down," she said, tugging at the arm pressed firmly against her throat. She wasn't being choked but rather being made to stand on her toes- impressive as she was taller than the general- and her feet ached and shuffled awkwardly, making the golden rings around her ankles jingle as she stepped.

"Now see, your word isn't worth _shit _to me Saevin," the general snapped.

"What do you want from me?" she gasped, her heart picking up and her mana curling into her core. Even the electricity around her ears spluttered out in fear.

"Prove to me you give half a shit about him- he ain't _Solas _or whoever he's gunna be. Right now he's just who he is- prove you aren't just _tolerating _him until you can get back to your proper Solas," she demanded. Saevin's mind went horrifically, panic-inducingly blank as she struggled to think of a way to demonstrate that _yes _she liked Fen.

There were a thousand things that she could say. She'd watched him sleep for a little while after sex, she knew how he looked- how he reached out for her and pulled her against his chest and wrapped himself around her. She'd watched him read, knew that he made faces to reflect character moods, sometimes echoing the line spoken with the emotion but otherwise silent. Solas had never done that, and she liked the trait in Fen.

She sucked in a gulp of air. "If Fen isn't sure how I feel about him, he can ask me. I don't have to prove myself to you," she snapped, her voice wavering despite her conviction. Cha'cer looked taken aback- perhaps distantly pleased- but quickly tried to bury it under an irritation that didn't _quite _reach all the way down.

"If you hurt him, if he ever feels like he isn't good enough for you, if he _ever _feels miserable because of you, I swear I will prevent you from ever being born," she said sternly. Saevin didn't move, unsure if the sentiment required acknowledgement. "Clear?" Cha'cer demanded.

"Crystal," Saevin replied quickly. "Although I'd like to add that preventing my birth may or may not end the world."

"Don't care," Cha'cer said, dropping her hold and turning on her heel. "Now go on and have fun with him I guess," she added, her shoulders loosening. "He's a fun guy, once you get past all the sulking." She smiled and lazily saluted, headed towards the training field.

Saevin relaxed, then looked up at the ceiling- more out of habit than anything. "Solas?" she asked, reaching to her side. She'd started to carry around a notebook so he could talk to her whenever he had to without having to puppet her across the Keep.

_Vhenan._

"Where's Cha'cer in the future?" He is quiet for a while, then begins to write.

_She… died. She was meant to be guarding me in my sleep for fear that an intruder to my resting place would kill me out of spite. When I awoke, she was gone- I tracked her with every power I possessed, fearing for her life. I found that she had been out hunting with the remaining Fangs when they were beset by slavers. Elves then still had incredibly long life spans that were shortening remarkably, but she had lasted just long enough for there to still be record of her. She was captured and eventually died in slavery._

Saevin gnawed her lip. "We have to save her," she said finally.

_I have wanted to mention as much, but in the flurry of finally contacting you and almost getting you killed… I have been neglectful in favour of remembering a time where she lived. I wish there was something that I could tell her to keep her from her fate, especially one so inglorious as death in slavery. She would hate it and… perhaps I should speak to myself. I can be rather ingenious if I am panicked._

Saevin smiled weakly. "Was that a joke?"

_Why would it be?_

"Your solution to the Breach was to pour common magic into it to get it to stop."

_Not one of my better plans, no, though I would argue that your grand solution was to catch a ball, _he wrote and she rolled her eyes.

"It wasn't even a plan, and it still worked out fine!"

_Says the woman who threw herself and three companions three thousand years into the past,_ he returned. She laughed and for a second she missed him terribly- the grown him, the him whose smiles were thin but genuine and whose eyes were tired but bright. _Come, I daresay you of all people could convince me to abandon responsibility for a while- I seem to remember being terribly bored anyway._

. . . . .

Cha'cer dragged Sera along behind her towards the training yard, grinning like something was going to explode. _It's a surprise, _she'd said, stealing a kiss, and had refused to tell Sera anything else as she ushered her along the Keep until they were standing in the courtyard.

Eight people stood there in various states of fighting- a woman with silvery hair took a swing at a person with a thick, muscular build in the training enclosure, and a woman with pretty blonde hair chatted amicably with Lietenant Raer.

"Sera, I'd like you to meet the Fangs of Fen'Harel," Cha'cer said proudly, gesturing towards them. She gave two sharp whistles and they all turned their attention towards the pair- and the silver haired woman swung out and hit the muscular elf in the shoulder. In return the elf slipped into stealth mode and gave her silvery dreads a hard tug. "Guys not now!" Cha'cer insisted.

"So this's your squad then?" Sera asked. The general nodded proudly.

"You've already met Red and Lambchop," she said, gesturing at Velyian and La'ran in turn. They were the two slaves recruited from the feast, and seemed to be settling in well if still a little shy. Velyian held a staff against her tightly, probably the first one she'd ever possessed, with a big grin on her face. La'ran sat stiffly but otherwise peaceful. "Then there's Gary and Lady," she pointed at the muscular elf, now out of stealth, and the perkiest, most bright eyed woman that Sera had ever seen. She waved brightly and offered her hand.

"My name's Macha, actually," she said. She was wearing loose fitting clothes and had a long bow on her back kept pristinely. Sera snorted and shook her hand, reminded sharply of Josephine.

She looked at the muscular elf, who grunted a short "Gahruil" before pulling at the shortswords on their hip to care for them. Sera assumed that the word was their name- they were like Grim, one of Bull's Chargers.

"They're a lot nicer than they would have you believe," Macha assured her with a friendly pat on the shoulder. "General Cha'er tells us that you're an archer. Where did you pick it up?" she asked.

"Here and there?" Sera never liked answering that question.

"Well you'll have to sit me and La'ran down and show us a thing or two," she said with a smile. Sera found herself nodding against her better instincts, but was distracted by her confused agreement to train some strangers in archery by Cha'cer hastily continuing the introductions.

"Fireball over here is another mage, one of our more… painful ones," she said, gesturing at a woman who was demonstrating frantic staff work to Velyian. She paused, turning to frown at Cha'cer.

"Novae's my name, actually, and what sort of introduction is that?" she asked accusingly.

"You'll get a better introduction when the Fangs' initiation isn't accidentally being set on fire and having the experience immortalized in your research," the general returned.

"If I don't write it down how am I supposed to learn?"

_"Ask _before setting people on fire."

"I don't _mean _to, I'm making an accident into a good thing!" she insisted. She looked at Sera. "Don't worry, the initiation thing is just a rumour- you're the elf from the future?" she asked. Sera nodded, then shrugged. _One of two, at least._ "Ohh, I'll have to sit you down. I bet you have stories." The grin Novae shot her was far from comforting.

"Try not to wet yourself, Nov," Cha'cer said fondly, ruffling her hair. Her staff swung out and rapped against the side of the general's knees, but not hard enough to stagger her. "Anyway, over here is Sun and Stars-" The silver-haired elf from before put her arms around the shoulders of the blonde. "You can guess which one is which, right?" she asked with a grin.

"You two got proper names too?" Sera asked.

"No," answered Stars shortly, looking like she wanted to pull Sun away.

"Sun and Stars works just fine," Sun answered with a dry smile. "Mage and rogue."

"And finally there's Raer but you know them too," Cha'cer said nervously. "And that's the whole family," she added with a grin.

"You're forgetting the noisy _shem _mage," Sun said, her head rested against Stars' chest.

"You made Dorian an honorary member when he helped us torch that camp," Macha reminded her, then smiled over her shoulder. "There he is now- I invited him down for training to make sure he wasn't drowning himself in books again. The Iron Bull is coming too!" She seemed immensely pleased by the notion, while Gahruil snorted from their place on the fence.

Once Dorian came into view, Gahruil made a few broad gestures with their hands that Dorian returned. Sera frowned but Macha smiled at her. "Gary is mostly non-verbal, and they usually use sign language. As it turns out, Dorian knew sign language as well and they've been chattering on like they've known each other for years."

"Just the smartest ain't ya Dori," Sera teased. Dorian flipped her off and she laughed. "I got that one- and what's this I hear 'bout you getting initiated into my girlfriend's squad before I did, like I couldn't kick your ass all the way back to 'Vinter?" she asked.

"Please, Sera, I'm a fire mage. Archers need distance and precision- I just need a flammable target," he said, leaning against the railing by Stars.

"And while you cast all those spells with all your mage-y gestures, how you gunna stop me from filling you with arrows?" she asked, her bow hand twitching. Velyian snorted.

"That's what we have Raer for- meat shields," she said fondly. The lone warrior rolled their eyes and clanged their training sword against their thin practice shield in a distantly ritualistic manner.

"Yeah, warriors are great for that, but without the Bull or Cassie there to knock me upside the head while you wave your arms around, what's stoppin' me?" Sera said, her mouth curling into a smile as surely as the challenge was issued.

"Those, Sera, are _fightin _words." Dorian grinned and a lick of flame crawled up his arm. The Iron Bull joined the party just in time, taking a heavy seat next to Gahruil and gesturing at them lazily. They returned the favour with a grin on their face, their eyes glued to the pair.

"First one says _uncle _loses," she said, reaching for one of the weak wooden training bows. Stars went to find a better viewpoint while Sun went to stand beside Macha. The other archer seemed to serve as a default referee. Velyian hurried over to stand beside Novae, while La'ran invited Raer to occupy the mage's empty seat.

"I'm going to be healing every injury, so please don't go for kill shots," Sun said, folding her arms over her chest. Macha nodded in agreement.

"And no setting fire to clothes or hair to purposely try and burn her out," she added, looking sternly at Dorian. He shrugged in agreement, cracking his knuckles. Sera put up her hand and scrambled over to Cha'cer.

"So am I gettin' a good luck kiss or what?" she asked, grinning crookedly. Stars whistled and Gahruil laughed. Cha'cer's nose turned faintly pink, but she leaned in and kissed Sera anyway.

"Kick his _shemlen _ass, _vhenan'ara," _she said, knocking their foreheads together.

"Can't understand you when you talk all goofy," Sera scolded in return.

_"Emma lath."_

"Fucker."

_"Da'assan."_

"Dickhead."

_"Ma sa'lath."_

Sun had her hand pressed to her mouth and was making an odd cooing noise. Macha grinned knowingly while Stars rolled her eyes. Sera shook her head and kissed Cha'cer again, turning back to Dorian. "Gunna give Tiny over there a smooch?" she asked. Dorian rolled his eyes.

"We're soldiers, Sera. We kiss _after _we win," he said, though even as the words came out his cheeks flushed darkly. He straightened his stance aggressively to compensate, swinging his arms around and stretching himself on his staff.

"Does that mean I get a kiss if you win?" Bull called.

_"Fasta vass_ can we just start killing each other?" Dorian demanded.

"No killing!" Sun scolded sharply. Sera cast one last look back at the general, who handed a bag of coin to Macha and said something along the lines of _put it all on Sera._ Something swirled in Sera's stomach, something squishy and soft and _touched _that Cha'cer believed in her at _least _fifty sov's worth.

And she wasn't about to let her stupid squishy elfy lover down.

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see told u i was writing here it is taa daa. sorry it took so long but lord. also it was supposed to go up earlier but the audio on my fuckin tv is fucked up so I cant hear shit and have been trying to fix it for like an hour :/ anyway, lemme know if u like it? lemme know if everyone's still into it? next chapter is the LAST CHAPTER, then there's an epilogue coming at u hard and fast like a kick to the groin.


	16. Chapter 15

Solas sighed heavily and pawed at his eyes. They were red and strained, but he did not dare rest- not while Saevin occupied the same realm as a pack of unhinged and pseudo-omnipotent mages, not while Dorian dealt with the suspicious and frightened elves that had fled to the Keep, not while Sera put herself in danger and Bull integrated himself into the crowd, slipping back into his role as a spy like he really had been born to it. He would not leave any of them to fend for themselves, especially as Fen'Harel drew ever closer to achieving his goals and locking the gods away. The aftermath had been messy the first time and he would extract Saevin and her team before any harm could befall them.

"Hey there Chuckles." Varric stood in the doorway to the rotunda where Solas had set up his research station, carefully balancing a tray of food. Cole stood behind him, shuffling uncomfortably. The spirit- the boy hadn't quite forgiven him for washing his memory away.

"Thank-you, Varric, but I do not require food," Solas said, almost hoping to unsettle the _durgen'len _enough that he would leave. His reintroduction to Skyhold had been unpleasant, like ripping off a bandage glued to a wound with blood, then putting it back on and repeating the process once for every companion he had to face down.

Varric had reacted the calmest, with a quiet _son of a __**bitch**_ the only indicator that he had even understood the gravity of Solas' identity. Lady Vivienne had reacted with derision, scorn, and then _fury. _It hadn't even been a cold anger like he had seen from her so many times, but more akin to the emotion that she let shiver through her voice when they had found the origin of the Ocularum. He hadn't thought to escape that encounter without singe marks.

The new Divine spymaster had pursed her lips tightly and refused to speak, staring at him with a glance that sought to dissect something from him. Josephine had been aghast and more than a little skeptical before embarking on damage control maneuvers, while the Commander had stared him down very coolly and declined to comment. Blackwall had frowned, dark anger on his brow which Solas supposed was deserved- he had torn the man down often enough for his own falsehoods, much smaller in scope than Solas' own.

Cole had become angry when he learned that Solas had wiped the knowledge from his mind, furious and hurt that someone he had trusted had broken that trust so completely. He'd stomped away and avoided the mage ever since. Cassandra had tried to shield bash his nose into his brain, and only the sheer predictability of the action had saved it from actually hitting its mark.

Harding had been relatively calm- more uncomfortable than genuinely afraid, but he suspected that the elven 'gods' played a relatively minimal role in her life. Lieutenant Aclassi had been interested solely in the welfare of those missing, which was refreshing- the man was so far removed from the idea of gods and magic that he merely promised Cassandra that the Chargers would watch the new prisoner as closely as possible.

That had, of course, led to the awkward tactical positioning of the Chargers around the rotunda and patrolling the overhead library. Krem stood, cutting a very stern figure, closest to Solas, while Dalish clutched her _bow _in her trembling fingers, pacing the overhead with Grim. She had reacted poorly to the news and even worse to the truth, while Skinner had seemed unaffected and stood on the lower levels with Krem. Rocky and Stitches were taking turns on the library level and the lower level, neither the dwarf nor the human particularly affected by Fen'Harel's legacy.

"Oh come on, I've seen you eat plenty of times," Varric protested.

"It would have hardly been an effective ruse if I had neglected to 'sustain' my mortal body," he said, and it was only a half lie. Food _was _necessary to him to function- being alive and active was different than being alive and asleep, and in _uthenera _the Fade sustained him. Some of that would carry over to his wakefulness due to his close connection to the place, but not enough to allow him to deny calories.

"Solas-"

"Fen'Harel," he corrected in an empty voice.

"You're not _really _gunna go by _Fen'Harel _are you? I mean, I'm not gunna pretend like I'm an expert on weird elf shit, but Daisy told me the stories. Is it smart to try and stand behind that kind of reputation?"

"Should I continue to go by Solas then? The lie that I told all of you, told to Saevin? A man that never existed in any sort of genuine way?" he demanded.

"He existed to us," Cole said gravely, still refusing to even look directly at Fen'Harel.

"He was not real," he insisted staunchly. "And I will not hide behind him any longer." _And I do not wish to argue about it anymore,_ he added in his head. It was better that he should embrace the man who had toppled his own damn empire, the man who had locked away his peers and ruined his people.

The man who was currently acting as a throne for Saevin while she read.

He rubbed his eyes again, but focused on the scene despite himself. She wasn't doing research anymore- simply waiting on _him_ to tell her what she had to do to get home- and after the long discussion he'd had with the younger version of himself _(fenedhis _that was a headache to think about) they had both been emotionally strung out. It had been decided that Cha'cer would be told about her fate so it would be prevented, and they would supply the area with stocks enough to last the Fangs a while.

After that, Saevin had simply sat down on him and began to read, and foolish lovestruck boy that he was, Fen'Harel had just dedicated his time to watching her do so. There were a thousand other things he could have been doing, but the novelty of a new lover enraptured him. He had always been a passionate person whether that passion drove him to defeat gods or just watch a beautiful person exist.

"How're they doing, Chuckles?" Varric asked, obviously refusing to use _Fen'Harel _still. He settled himself in a spare armchair brought in for Krem that the man barely used in favour of tense pacing, setting the tray down on the desk despite what Solas had told him. Cole hovered awkwardly a few feet away.

"I can only see the Inquisitor. She is fine," he said shortly.

"I never understood why you talk about her like that. Even when she was passed out in that Well you called her _Inquisitor. _I've met a man that can tear hearts right out of the chest cavity who's more poetic," Varric said with a grin.

"Is that so?" Fen'Harel asked, trying to be disinteresting enough to end the conversation.

"Well, once you got a bit of wine in him. What's your excuse?" he asked. The god snorted.

"I was attempting to erect a professional barrier between the two of us," he said simply.

"You erected something but I doubt the Seeker would consider it professional," Varric laughed. Fen'Harel rolled his eyes. "Shit are you gunna be this warm and friendly when she comes back?" he asked.

_I __**am **__grim and fatalistic. _Even she had known his warmth was fleeting and his manner was stiff and unbearably distant. Despite that she had never missed an opportunity to slide into his lap, to draw him away from his concrete spot in the rotunda, to get him involved with the other companions. It had made the leaving painful, but the duration had been sweet.

"I have never been warm or friendly before. How can she expect something that has never existed within me?" he asked. The book's words swam before his eyes- methods of mana amplification. He would need more than he had to attract the orb, even with Mythal's addition and his residual orb magic returning. All of it beat against the backs of his eyes and across his skull, still integrating with his system. Mythal's magic rebelled against him, seeking her out still, and his own magic was too far and too long removed from himself to recognize him fully- exactly the reason that Saevin had been shot back into the past instead of simply landing in his lap in the crumbling ruin he'd fled to.

"Now, don't be like that. You haven't been as distant and aloof as you think you have and if you remember that you were mortal for a while- even if you were pretending- then you'll do fine," Varric assured him. Fen'Harel swallowed, shaking his head.

"I do not wish to pretend at mortality," he said dismissively.

"So what, you're going to take over Orlais?" Varric was jesting.

"If my actions make it necessary. I am not afraid of Gaspard and I am convinced I could win over Briala," he said with a shrug. Orlais wouldn't prove difficult once his mana settled down- it would be harder if he could not win over the faux Empress. He would regret her death, if only for Saevin's sake as she was fond of the woman- he had not forgotten Felassan, a death that he had _later_ grown to regret as he did not have so many followers that he could kill them indiscriminately without feeling the loss after a while. _If I plan to win over Briala I would also do well to neglect mentioning Felassan._

"Your trustworthiness needs work," the dwarf said with a shake of his head. "I've met people possessed by demons that sounded more stable. Unless you're trying to drive me off again by being a drag." Fen smiled.

"I am being perfectly serious," he protested.

"It would be harder if she asked you not to," Cole said from across the room. "Or if _I _asked you not to." That... was true. He could not hide that.

"Stop reading me Cole," he said stiffly.

"I'm _not_," he returned angrily. "I can see things without _reading_ them." Fen frowned, shaking his head. He remembered that the spirit was not wholly _spirit_ anymore. He was capable of picking things up that did not directly relate to his aspect, and if Fen was being transparent to anyone then it wasn't beyond Cole to notice.

"I apologize. Would you ask me not to?" he asked. Saevin... she was a gamble. She hated Orlais, she hated the Game, she'd been borderline _violent _about the burning of Halamshiral Alienage, and almost gotten them kicked out of the Winter Palace by making snide comments about how the palace was built on her homeland. If he could secure the support of the elves, then there was always the chance that she would support him.

"If you wanted to hurt people I would," the boy answered.

"I never wish to hurt people," he said.

"Don't lie," Cole snapped. Fen'Harel laughed.

"You are right. I apologize," he said. Varric raised an eyebrow, now holding a notebook that Fen Hadn't notice him pull out.

"Who have you wanted to hurt?" he asked, looking fairly unsettled.

"Celene. I was pleased when Saevin decided to kill her, but I was much more involved in her story than anyone knew. I would have also been pleased if she'd been allowed to live, simply because she would be easy to manipulate. She was much less clever than she believed herself," he explained.

"Why'd you care about killing her?" he asked.

"Elven lives meant nothing to her. The feelings of those close to her meant nothing to her. She was infected with the same problem as many rulers are- they believe the wellbeing of their Empire above the needs of their lowest citizens. It is what justifies slavery, even the low wage slavery of contemporary elves. _Someone _must do the grunt work after all, and having a firm slave class or lower class will ensure that the work is always done. Rulers like this believe themselves terribly clever and manipulative but in truth it only makes them puppets of the noble class."

Varric seemed taken aback. "Put a lot of thought into that for a Trickster god," he said finally, his tone only hinting at his surprise.

"God of Rebellion," he corrected shortly. "It should be surprising to no one that the Dalish are capable of mistranslations, and even then are willingly susceptible to ancient propaganda."

"Hey now. You wanna blame every Dalish elf since the clans were founded for not knowing _everything?"_ he asked. Fen's jaw tightened, because the answer was at least _half _yes.

"Their supposed monopoly on elven culture is uniquely obnoxious considering their total ignorance," he said tightly.

_"They _don't know they're wrong," he pointed out.

"They cannot be certain that they are correct either, but that does not stop them from assuming that they are," he snapped. He did not wish to speak about the Dalish. It exhausted him and usually made Saevin angry with him. "I do not care about them anymore. Their existence will only be checked again if I require their allegiance, or eventually when I seek to save them from their own willful ignorance."

"Trustworthiness, Chuckles. You used to be so unassuming, now you grew your hair out and you're wearing those weird robes-"

"He is jealous of himself, that's why he grew it. He wants her to look at him like she looks at _him _and he feels older than he ever has in his life," Cole quipped. Fen tensed.

"_That _was reading me, Cole, and I _insist_ that you stop," he snapped.

"What's the kid talking about?" Varric asked. The god groaned quietly.

"Saevin is three thousand years in the past with a younger version of myself and she is no less charming to me then than she was when the Inquisition began," he said shortly. "I, however, was much warmer and much friendlier than I am today and-" He stopped talking, shaking his head. That was already more information than he should have shared.

"So what, this is a midlife crisis?" Varric asked incredulously.

"I am immortal. I have no _mid-life,"_ he snapped. _But yes, _he added silently.

"He agrees with you Varric," Cole quipped from across the room.

_"Fenedhis _is there a reason the two of you are here or did the Seeker simply think that it was far too easy for me to focus with the six people already watching me?" he asked angrily.

"Well, you've been back for about a month, Sae and the gang have been gone for a little under two, and since you got back the most you've spoken to any of us is to drop the whole god-bomb thing on us-"

"I am not a god," he insisted unsurely. "Not… not in the sense that…" It was complicated to explain, especially since the Dalish had assigned him the title of god as the elves from Arlathan had. "It would be more accurate to say that… I am as Cole is?" But that was false as well, otherwise Cole would be just as corrupted.

"Sounds like a story Chuckles. Take a break from glaring at books and indulge me," the dwarf said, sitting back and propping his notebook up. Fen sighed then shook his head. It wasn't as if the truth wouldn't come out eventually and he supposed that he could use this as a practice run for explaining it to Saevin.

"I was against Cole becoming more human- you remember this?" he asked. Varric nodded and Cole made a face across the room but said nothing. "It is because that is how _I _came to be, in a sense. A spirit made flesh- I did not know, before. Like Cole I mistakenly believed myself to be… _real _I suppose is the word you would use although I dislike it. I believed myself to be a foundling at the Temple of Mythal, and everyone there believed the same. It was not until I was older that I realized the truth," he said shortly.

"Which was?"

"I had not been _born_ of any parents, and I had never been abandoned. I had succeeded in becoming flesh, like all the so called gods before me. I arrogantly believed my connection to the Fade to be a product of my own talents, but I had simply forgotten as Cole had forgotten. A spirit of rebellion made flesh."

"That's… some freaky shit, actually. When did you realize?" Varric asked.

"A templar told me," Cole mumbled.

"I simply put it together. As the mortal I thought I was, I dedicated myself to the study of the Fade. I realized my… _compulsions _were not natural, not always justified. I wished to free the slaves, an act of rebellion. I also put my feet up on desks during meetings with the pantheon, I would steal, someone would give me instructions and I would disobey them with no real reason to do so… Mythal thought that perhaps I was acting out for attention. I was not. I was a spirit of rebellion that did so as readily as Cole helps people," he said with a shake of his head.

"So… the kid is kind of like an elf god?" Varric asked slowly. Solas shook his head.

"Cole and the spirit of compassion were two different people. The spirit of rebellion and Fen'Harel were not. Are not. Something like that anyway." It was difficult to explain, certainly, and he hadn't thought about it in centuries. "Also, Divinity is not something one trips and falls into. It is a spell that one must learn," he added.

"Can I see?" the dwarf asked. Fen shook his head.

"No. I must conserve power until I can bring everyone home- afterwards, perhaps, if I am strong enough," he said. "But regarding the original topic, Cole also lost touch with any magic he once had within him as well, so Divinity is unreachable for him. I also do not quite know how the spell would react to a human body."

"So what, you just rebel because of the spirit you used to be?" he asked.

"Still theoretically am- not wholly spirit, not wholly elf, not wholly Divine," he said.

"Don't forget, _I _knew Cole was more human. You're an elf just as any other elf," Varric said dismissively.

Fen snorted. "If that is a compliment I will take it. And to answer your question, no. I turned from my purpose through virtue of stealing the Divinity. Once I became a god in the pantheon and once people began to worship me it meant that I was part of the system- it turned me from my purpose, but overall I believe that it was healthier for me. I am certainly less exhausting to be around."

"So you say. What about the others?"

"Elgar'nan learned to stay his hand at the behest of Mythal, Mythal learned to overlook his trespasses and in turn was turned from justice-" Varric cringed reflexively- "June turned from innovation as he began to discipline followers with his tools, Sylaise turned from comfort as we all began to wreak havoc, Ghilan'nain turned from creation into destruction as Andruil spent more and more time… well she was the goddess of sacrifice that turned into a mad hunter, a killer. Dirthamen was made to share his secrets and Falon'din grew jealous as death never touched the elves as our own aspects touched them… we all turned from our purposes, for better or for worse," he said firmly.

"Elgar'nan must not have been too bad… I mean he went from Vengeance to what?" Varric asked. Fen laughed bitterly.

"He went from blind vengeance to calculated malice. Nothing about Elgar'nan was ever good or kind. The only two to come out better for having turned were me and Mythal. Turning from justice allowed her to learn the world and see shades of grey that she lacked before. It made her less fearsome to the people."

"Too bad all justice can't turn out that way," Varric said. Fen tilted his head.

"I apologize. I have heard of Anders-"

"His justice went to Vengeance," the dwarf interrupted.

"Which simply goes to show that not all spirits are the same." The infuriating attitude that spirits were somehow less real due to their existence in the Fade, the implications that their aspects made them somehow all the same... it was a discussion best left for when he could resist getting angry, separate himself from his personal involvement.

"So you're a corrupted spirit with a body that you made by yourself?" Varric seemed skeptical but Fen supposed that with Andraste's twisted message he had been fed by the Chantry, it would be hard to believe.

"That is one description, certainly. It is fair to say that I am still learning about my nature even now, approximately three thousand five hundred years after my creation," he said simply. "Naturally I know a bit more about the gods than I let on. The first gods made themselves as I did, others were later raised as gods- mortals taught the spells that were believed too complex for mortal magic to perform. They received aspects through virtue of Divinity and were later turned from them. Some stole it like I did- June, though he was a golden child compared to myself," Fen said with an eye roll.

"You've lost me, Chuckles."

"Their corruption made them Forgotten, unfamiliar to you. You belonged but you didn't know yourself until they were gone. They became two to the Dalish, but they were one. You did not walk in between them as was assumed but they were one and you walked with them even as they turned, walked with them as you began to separate yourself from them. Your corruption made you more, their corruption made them Forgotten," Cole said, staring at the wall.

"You're too far ahead of me Cole," Krem said, indicating for the first time that he had been listening at all.

"The Forgotten Ones that the Dalish invented are really just the gods after they were corrupted," Cole explained eagerly.

"Why's Krem the only one you'll explain to?" Varric asked with a laugh.

"He's the only one that asks me to," Cole defended. "The rest of you just tell me that I'm hard to understand."

"That's fair," Varric said with a shrug. "We'll work on it Kid."

"You will try, at least. Thank you."

Fen'Harel, meanwhile, looked back at his books. There were a thousand ways to boost his mana using the willpower of others, like Saevin had done to close the initial Breach, but it would not do. He didn't need _more_ mana in general, he needed more of his own. Even Mythal's magic inside of him would be difficult to associate with himself enough to present a beacon for the orb.

He pulled habitually at his dreadlocks, trying to think of _something_. There had to be _something_, and when he thought of it he could bring everyone home and... he shook his head. He would have to have this discussion with Saevin, to teach her as he had meant to teach her in Crestwood. His last act as her _haren_ that he had never wanted to be, not since he had seen her unconscious and clenching her fist in fear.

Would he stay after he had told her the truth? He wanted to, desperately, at the same time it terrified him. The idea that he was capable of using Saevin against her will was nauseating- he had grown more comfortable with his use of his power to write to her, but it was consensual and necessary. He had to save the people using every available resource to himself, and if departure had been his selfish attempt to refuse himself _her _as a resource. He had hoped that perhaps if he was not near her that he could justify not taking advantage of the considerable power that she possessed.

He could win her over, and probably much easier than Briala. Whereas Briala had invested herself into Orlais and the Orlesian elves, alongside the humans that made up court and country, Saevin was uninvested in human politics despite her position- she had no grand allegiances to any human border, she served no king or country, and he was one of her gods.

And there was the crux of the matter in truth. He did not want her to agree to help him because he was one of her gods, and not even because they had been _(were, perhaps?) _involved with each other. He wanted her to see the necessity of his actions and help him achieve what he set out to do because she believed in his goals. He selfishly wanted her beside him but could not bring himself to manipulate her to be there as he could with anyone else. If she chose to stand against him, what then? He would be forced to kill her and-

He sat down in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose while Varric scribbled notes talking to Krem. He would not think of that now, not yet. First he had to bring her home then it would be easiest if he left her again- it would hurt like a wound but he had to re-establish the distance he had created in Crestwood. If she touched him, held him with any sort of gentle intent, he would be lost. She made him weak and he was too afraid to deal with the consequences that staying would have. The only question would be how to bring her home and discourage her touch…

"Oh," he said softly, sitting up. He reached inside himself, eyes closed while conversation around him quieted. He touched a part of himself that he had not used in ages, past the Divinity that was so out of practice that teasing it to the surface was almost impossible. He did not dare summon it, but looked around it for the Wolf inside of him.

His Divinity, no matter how meagre, would be amplified by the Wolf through sheer necessity- mana was required to maintain the form and radiated off of him to ward off ignorant predators. And the form was still there, unused and curious at his prodding. From there he focused his vision on Saevin, who was eating with Dorian and discussing _Tarasy'lan Tel'as'_ architectural differences from Skyhold.

_Vhenan, _and how he hated himself for his weakness- he should have discouraged her but he wanted her to understand that he hadn't left because of her, _I can bring you home now._

She read what he'd written and Dorian read over her shoulder. He watched her face drop and felt his gut clench because no matter the timeline confusions and identity overlaps she would still be leaving a man she cared about and who cared for her in return to go home to _him._

"Right now?" she asked, even as Dorian stood to find Bull and Sera.

_Yes. If you could ask Fen'Harel to bring you to the old temple about three hours south of the Keep it would aid me greatly in retrieving you. The Veil there is thin in modern times and will make the Rift you will open to bring you home much easier to create, _he explained.

"I… can do that, yes," Saevin said hesitantly. Fen's gut clenched.

_I am sorry if this is difficult for you Saevin,_ he said, not entirely ignorant about comfort.

"I imagine it'll be worse for him… you," she said, standing up.

. . . . .

Fen'Harel had an entire herd of harts that milled around the Keep but had unabashedly pleaded with her to ride with him on one. He didn't need to ask- Saevin found this looming parting from him to be unsettling. She had expected to be less affected- after all, he was waiting for her mere moments into the future, but suddenly it seemed so much more like leaving than it had before.

His arms were locked around her waist while she gently held the mane of the hart to keep them balanced. Occasionally he would lean forward and kiss her skin- her neck, her hair, her shoulders- and other times he would brush his fingers against her, desperate for contact. "Are you gunna be okay?" she asked him quietly, letting Bull and Dorian's mount take the lead.

_"Ir ahel, da'or. Ar suledin u," _he said.

"You aren't alone," she protested. He smiled faintly.

"I am not," he agreed. "This still feels terribly like loneliness though." Her chest tightened and she leaned back to put herself as flush against him as she could manage while still maintaining their hold on the hart. His arm crossed over her chest and he sighed. "I suppose this is what it will feel like when we are together in the future as well?" he asked.

"You never said," she reminded him. He growled absently.

"In this timeline I will tell you everything, no secrets between us," he insisted. She laughed. "What? Do you not believe me?" he asked.

"No, you just sound younger than you usually do. I'll still love you, even if you don't tell me everything right away," she said comfortingly. He squeezed her.

_"Ma vhenan dar ila,"_ he murmured.

"I'm a giver?" she asked.

"You will give him love he will not deserve for his falseness," he said. She rolled her eyes.

"This rivalry you have with yourself is a little strange, _ma'tae,"_ she said, hanging on a bit tighter as the hart veered her course into thicker woods away from the path. "It's probably not healthy to hate yourself so badly," she added.

"I think the hart wishes to stop for a while," Fen said eagerly, sliding off of the mount before it even paused. "I will go find Cha'cer and the others and we can rest a while." He disappeared back towards the path and she didn't bother to mention his eagerness to postpone their arrival at what she'd been told was an old temple of his before he had renounced formal religion and his status as an idol of worship.

Her legs ached as she hit the ground and the mount nipped her shoulder gently as she walked by her. "Clip-Clop would love you," she said, feeling a stab of homesickness.

. . . . .

Cha'cer did nothing to mask her desire to cling tightly to Sera until the last possible second, nor did Sera do anything to hide the way her hands shook as she hung on right back. "You gotta live, right? I mean it," she said ferociously, and Cha'cer nodded. Fen and future-Fen had approached her with the knowledge of her death and she would be _damned _before she let herself die in slavery. They would instead stockpile supplies and hold out until the mysterious awakening Fen would supposedly have (although future-Fen had refused to tell her what for, instead preoccupying himself with telling her that he loved her and missed her every day of his life- sort of strange, speaking to a Fen that existed in a time where she didn't, but very like him).

"Nothing is gunna keep me from you Sera, I swear," Cha'cer insisted. _Especially not slavers. _She was adamant that she would never be under someone else's power again, never live a life where her own decisions were denied in favour of pleasing a master. _Never ever again._ Her life, her life with Fen and the Fangs and a life that would include Sera one day, was worth more to her than anything else.

"M'gunna miss you Squish," Sera murmured, her voice shaking. Her eyes were wet but her fierce expression advised Cha'cer not to mention it- she kissed away her tears anyway.

"I'll miss you every time I cut someone's throat," Cha'cer whispered. Sera giggled in a mildly hysterical manner.

"I'll miss you every time I put a'arrow through the gob of some fuck," she whispered back, her voice still trembling. "Though you better not be friggen gone long enough for me to do too much of that," she added.

"It's no fun killing without you. Only half the firepower," Cha'cer said into her neck, pressing kisses down her shoulder.

"Nah, I've seen Novie have a go at a bandit. Your firepower is fine," Sera said, squeezing her hips.

"The view's shit though," the general returned. Sera laughed, shifting uncomfortably in her old clothes. She'd gotten too used to how light and breezy Arlathan's fashion was.

"Yer not gunna keep me waiting though right?" Sera murmured. "You'll come get me all smart?" she asked. Cha'cer wound her fingers through her hair.

"We'll make cookies when I get there," Cha'cer assured her. "The ones with the peanuts that you like." Sera laughed into her neck, but it came out more like a sob. "What's wrong?"

"Whatcha mean what's wrong I'm friggen scared. Scared you'll die or somethin' stupid," she said quietly, trying to avoid notice by the others.

"Future-Fen told me how it happens. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice," she swore. Sera was quiet for a long time, then laughed again.

"Promise you won't meet some weird elf floozy and ditch me in the future?" she asked as Cha'cer traced across her ears to watch them flutter. "Like I know I ain't smart or shit but-"

"Sera, I _swear, _you're my one and only. My forever girl," Cha'cer said, pressing her forehead against Sera's. The woman's nose curled, but she laughed again.

"Squish," she teased.

_"Ar lath ma, _Sera. _Na dar ma'ali, ma'mi,"_ she breathed.

"Mummy?"

"No you dork, _ma'mi. _My blade. _Ma'ali, _my shadow. _Ma'iat, _my fire," she insisted. Sera's face was skeptical but the blush across her cheeks spoke volumes more than she said.

"Can't understand you when you talk that elf shit," she protested.

"I know. I'm trying to get you to accidentally pick up the language," she returned with a grin. Sera swatted at her before going back to a full bodied embrace while the others got ready to return to the journey ahead.

"Elf shit," Sera insisted.

_"Na dar ma vhenan'ara, emma lath," _she returned.

"Yer lucky you're good in bed," the rogue scolded, but Cha'cer saw her pleased grin. She also saw the way she had to be convinced to remount the hart and continue on the path, but the general couldn't say she blamed her.

. . . . .

The temple was simpler than she had ever imagined an elven temple being, but Saevin was impressed nonetheless. The detail in the stonework was mind boggling and the delicate mosaic pieces, shattered as they were and overgrown with twisting vines that snapped at their ankles like living things as they passed, were iridescent and ethereal. Light was cast in dimly through holes in the walls and ceilings, shadowing everything in a pale blue glow as the sun filtered through the heavy canopy of leaves above them.

_I will take over Saevin and prepare myself for the summoning. When she is released, she will cast her Rift Mark spell and Dorian will blast fire into the source again. This will hopefully prompt the magic to draw itself back into the future,_ Solas wrote.

"Can we… have a second?" Saevin asked quietly.

_Of course, _vhenan.

She turned to Fen whose arms were crossed over his chest tightly as he glared at a wall. "Does it bother you to be here?" she asked gently, sliding up beside him. He shook his head, then seemed to change his mind and shrug.

"I feel… strange. Like something about me here is… wrong. It does not matter- will you miss me?" he asked. She smiled.

"Yes Fen, I'll miss you, but you know what?" she asked. He frowned.

"I know, we are the same person and I am being petty-"

"No, _ma'tae. _Whatever residual feelings that you keep for me, that you meet me with, that you carry during our relationship and that you leave me with, when we meet again- for me in moments, for you in millenia, I promise you that the distance that you've put between you and him will dissolve and when we're sitting there together, you will be _you," _she said. He looked a little surprised. "I've thought about it and I've come to the conclusion that since Solas never really existed, I bonded with _you. _I fell in love with _you. _You and him _are _the same person, but he separates himself from you because of regret and you separate yourself from him for the same reason. You don't have to do that anymore, either of you. Fen'Harel in both timelines is free to be himself without regrets because he won't be hiding anything from the people who care about him."

"You are remarkably sure of this," he said hesitantly.

"I am, because I know you. Both of you," she promised, then stood up on her toes to kiss him. His throat felt tight and he squeezed her a little too hard and was loathe to pull away from her, but when she separated from him he tried to hold himself together as best he could.

"I will miss you terribly," he told her.

"I know, but everything is going to be okay Fen. You aren't irredeemable and there's no mistake that you make that cannot be fixed," she murmured.

"That is more for him than me," he protested.

"You don't really know how soon you'll become him. I love you, Fen. Be happy while I'm gone." He kissed her forehead, his knuckles pale with the force of him clutching her robes.

"For you, _vhenan, _I will try."

. . . . .

Sera smushed wet kisses all over Cha'cer's face, holding her head between her hands. "You come find me," she insisted, breaking to plant more kisses. "I'll show you the bar they built and all the good hidin' spots and where the Seeker keeps her smut-" Her fingers were shaking and Cha'cer laughed thickly at her clinginess. "It won't be so long promise. You an' me Squish we're gunna rip their fuckin' nuts off once we're together again and I'll show you to the Jennies and the Chargers and everyone," she swore.

"I'll have three thousand years worth of kills on my kill count so you're gunna have to work a little to even it out," Cha'cer teased.

"Fuck that I'm gunna help save the world. That makes us all evened up," she insisted. "While you're killin' bandits and bunny rabbits and shit I'll be rammin' my fuckin' boot up- well I guess I can't tell you who yet but when you find out your gunna be really impressed," she said sternly.

"Ohhh, Miss Sera, hold me!" Cha'cer said, swooning in her arms. The rogue giggled.

"Yeah like this! Have cookies ready too I'm a fuckin' hero," she said, dip-kissing her. She straightened them both back up, then sighed. "Don't die, all right? Please?" she asked.

"Cross my heart, Princess."

"Oh fuck off. Look I… I gotta say it don't I. Not that I don't want to but if I never see you again I just gotta… I _love_ you, okay?" she asked. "And if you're gunna say it _please _no elfy shit because I'm not Sae and I don't understand what the fuck any of it means-"

"I love you too Sera," Cha'cer said with a grin. "I'll see you in a bit."

. . . . .

Fen'Harel stood with Cassandra, Vivienne, Varric, Cole, and the entirety of the Chargers on the highest point in his old temple. Most of it was exposed to the sky, rotted away and decrepit by now, and it still managed to give the same feeling of _wrongness _to him- unsurprising considering that this was the place where he had turned from his purpose, but he was willing to weather the strange tugging feeling on his brain to end this.

Once it was established that everyone in the past was ready, Fen took control of Saevin and readied himself to change. Cassandra drew her sword and Krem his hammer, which did nothing to soothe the nerves that spiked in Fen's chest, but he drew his Divinity to the surface despite his fear.

The blueness of it poured off of him in smoking droves, the feeling burning his skin at its intensity. He pitched forward to his knees and a growl ripped out of his chest as the Wolf tore out of him, towards the surface. He let go of his bind over Saevin and the Wolf stood, heads taller than anyone else in the room. Cassandra mumbled a quick prayer to the Maker and Krem organized the Chargers around him. Dalish looked wane to the point of passing out and the few elven Inquisition soldiers that accompanied them backed up automatically.

The portal appeared, swirling and green above them, and the four wayward time travellers fell out of it and onto the ground heavily- blessedly, Iron Bull dropped first. The Wolf approached them quickly which prompted the surrounding soldiers to shout and wave their weapons, but Saevin stood shakily and waved them off. She ran up to the Wolf- a surprise considering how poorly she usually reacted to the beast- and threw her arms around his great neck.

"Missed you," she muttered into his fur. He shook her off to give himself space to turn back, the world swirling in a horribly nauseating manner as his reclaimed his elven body. Before she could get near him again, he pitched forward and vomited. "Yuck," she said with a laugh.

_"Abelas da'vin, _that took quite a bit of effort on my part," he said, wiping his mouth on a rag he kept to clean the blade of his staff. She sidestepped the sick and threw her arms around his waist, squeezing a little too tightly for someone who had just witnessed him vomit.

And the Dread Wolf was lost, pulling her against him and kissing her head. His stupid, hairbrained plan had _worked _for once and Saevin was wibbling into his shirt about Arlathan and how angry she was that she hadn't thought to ask him to show her the city and if he could show her in the Fade and _you grew your hair out again_ and _is Cha'cer here yet?_

"Slow down, Saevin. Take a moment to ground yourself," he murmured, stroking her back. The Bull was reuniting with the Chargers, loudly telling stories of warriors with magic and drinks that could peel paint, while slyly asking if Krem had staged a coup in his absence. Dorian smugly bemoaned _time travel sickness _to a very restrained, envious Vivienne. Sera shifted impatiently near himself and Saevin.

"Cough up my girlfriend Baldy," she insisted.

"She isn't here yet. Give her a few days- she is experiencing this timeline for the first time," he told her as Saevin crouched closer to the ground and took a few deep breaths. "She will need to figure out where Skyhold is in modern Thedas."

"Every day she ain't here I'm gunna draw a dick on somethin' you like, up to and including the Quizzie here," she promised, gesturing towards Saevin before going to ask Cassandra if she'd thought to bring food.

"Please don't leave," Saevin said, still crouched on the ground. Evidently the time travel sickness Dorian spoke of was affecting her as well- unsurprising as the two were remarkably similar in constitution when it came to motion sickness.

"I am right here, _da'vin,"_ he promised quietly, sitting next to her.

"I mean at all. Don't leave now that we're home and everything's normal again," she said. She even looked over to him but seemed to think better of the motion and instead pressed her head between her knees and groaned. She reached out and took his hand weakly and he wished he could do something for the nausea.

"We will have to discuss some things once you are well," he told her unsurely. He would have to explain his plans, open his ranks, come out to the world as the being that he truly was. He would have to explain that she had never loved a man, not truly, and deal with the consequences of keeping so much of his nature a secret from her.

"As long as you don't want to talk about them right this instant, it's fine," she said. He shifted closer to her and put his arm around her.

"Then I am at your disposal, Inquisitor," he said, stroking her hair back behind her ears.

"I love you Fen," she said, attempting once again to look over at him. She managed it for a few seconds, then turned forward and groaned.

"I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you," he returned soothingly, unsure if he meant three thousand years ago or merely two. "Would you like me to fetch a healer?"

"No," she said quickly, squeezing his hand. "Just… stay with me until I can move."

"As you wish, _vhenan."_

_._

_.._

_..._

_..._

_..._

so okay on tumblr I made this clear but in case yall dont know yet epilogue is gunna be split into two parts and im gunna add an index just because all my world building shit for solas (how fen harel came to be all this spirit/mage shit I introduced in this chapter, all that noise) and stuff that never really gets addressed in the story but is definitely a thing is kind of confusing. also an index for elven. speaking of elven:

Ir ahel, da'or. Ar suledin u - don't give this one a direct translation otherwise it's garbage- generally it means _I'm sad, I will endure alone. _Just Fen bitching.

Ma vhenan dar ila - my heart is a giver.

And i think the rest is translated directly in text ! soooo was this satisfactory? everyone digging it ? I didnt want it to be all swooshy romance cover reunion mostly because only one couple is getting reunited and half of that couple is about to vomit out her soul while the other half has just finished vomiting out his soul. plus one half is also a 3500 year old man so. probably break a hip or some shit.

anyway 2 part epilogue and index comin ur way the speed of whatever. my school might go on strike tomorrow so I'll have free time I guess.


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